La Mort Rit En Dernier
by Harley Quinn
Summary: Batman/HoND Cross over - Joker goes back to 15C Paris to do some damage - Clopin has to stop him!
1. Default Chapter Title

Mort Rit En Dernier - Chapter One 

GOTHAM CITY, 1999. 

Joker grinned a wicked and wide grin and stared with luminous purple eyes at the slender strip of leather in his hands, a glowing silver colored ball attached to one end, a metal panel marked with strange symbols at the other. "This is it, Harley Girl!!!!" he shouted with triumphant glee to his red and black clad girlfriend who stood at his elbow. "Imagine it, with this belt I can go where I want, when I want!!!!! Isn't it delightful? Ain't it a scream?" Harley incredulously raised an eyebrow. "Eh, Mistah J? That's this belt what's gonna take us through time? Hows that little thing gonna do that?" Joker's smile dissapeared for just a fraction of a second, and Harley very quickly moved out of his reach as he turned to face her, his purple and green form towering above her petite frame. With the light behind him, Harley couldn't see his face clearly,just an impression of white and black, heavy and thick like oil paint lavishly strewn on canvas. But she knew her lover well enough to know by the slope of his shoulders, the quiver of his fingers, that he was in a dangerously over-excited mood, and it would probably be better to be quiet for a few minutes and avoid a nasty cuff, whether in love or anger. "Pumpkin Pie, we all have our purposes on this earth, and mine wasn't to answer it's deep dark mysteries! Suffice to say this" he thrust the arm clutching the belt out "is the device that's gonna change History and make me a Star!!!!" She couldn't resist answering that with a loving grin "Aw, Puddin', yer already a Star!! 'Most feared mass murderer of our time', remember?" Joker rounded on her again, and with one step reached her side. With his mirthless grin he swooped down, and encircled her waist with his free arm, lifting her up and swirling her around as she gave a delighted whoop and flung her arms around his neck. "Ah Harley, Harley, Harley, Daddy's little cupcake! My fame in this century is assured! I have entries in the World Book Encylopedias! Television Shows have been made about my capers!! Books have been written!! Why then, wonders you, do I want to use this little belt to travel through time and leave my mark there??" Harley nodded slowly, gazing devotedly into eyes that for a change were level with her own. Abruptly Joker dropped her. "BECAUSE, YOU HALF-WITTED EXCUSE FOR A WOMAN, THERE ARE CONSIDERABLY MORE BOOKS, SHOWS AND HISTORY ENTRIES ABOUT OTHERS!!" Harley gazed up at him fearfully from her place on the floor, too scared to move and incite further wrath. Above her Joker fumed, waving his gloved fists in the air. "Napoleon!!! NAPOLEON! What has he done that I haven't??? He was short!!" He leaned in confidentially to Harley who cringed "And I heard he a baaaad problem with body odour!! HITLER!!!!!Of all the nerve!The man wore a caterpillar as a moustache! Genghis Khan, Rasputin, Claude Frollo - second stringers, the lot of them!!!! The outrage that those feeble minds, limited to the confines of the ordinary world, should be better known than I, JOKER Supreme!! Supreme...hmm...I'm hungry. Harley, dial for pizza!" Thankful his attention was diverted, Harley scampered to her feet and rushed away to follow her love's orders. As quickly as his temper had flamed it blew out again, and Joker ran a hand through thick long green hair and smiled at Harley's shapely retreating backside. "Besides" he whispered to himself "I can just imagine ole Batsy's face when he reads the revised edition of Caeser's Reign!!heh heh heh!!!" Harley re-entered the room, phone tucked on her shoulder. "Yeah ok, so we want a large thick crust with ham, cheese, pepperoni, onions, mushrooms,sardines, jellybeans, marshmallows, pineapple, chinese noodles, barbequed chicken, cookie dough - and oh yeah - extra anchovies. Got all that? Great, see ya in 30!" She hung up the phone and grinned at her beloved. "It's cool Puddin, I ordered yer fave!!" Joker was standing, chuckling to himself, rubbing his hands together gleefully. Harley stared at him for a moment then leaned blissfully against the door frame and gazed at the man she loved. Joker was well over six foot in height, almost painfully thin, but for those who'd seen him naked (and Harley certainly had) they knew his body rippled with muscle. Naturally, he wasn't an immensely strong man, or much of a threat in physical conflict - unless he should be in the mood. It was as though his insanity gave him a supernatural strength. He always dressed well, and he always dressed loudly. At present he was clad in a perfectly fitted suit of his favourite shade of purple. His silk shirt was orange and his cufflinks were miniature gold comedy and tragedy masks, a present from Harley on their anniversary that only she ever remembered. He wore a puple tie covered with green smiley faces, and Italian black shoes, shined enough so that Harley could see her face in them, covered with soft,white spats. But perhaps the most distinctive thing about him was his skin pallor. It was as thought someone had gotten a huge chunk of bone and bleached it in the sun, then carved Joker from it. His hair was a deep forest green, amazingly lush and soft, and he kept it very clean and combed. His finely chiselled face, had Joker been a different person, was handsome, despite it's angularity. Even the wide red slash of the grin he invariably wore did not hide his potential good looks. What marred it was the palatable aura that wafted off him. The gleam in his brilliant purple eyes, the nature of his grin - wickedness, insanity. The Joker's prescence had a tangibility that affected anyone near him. Harley thought of it as charisma. The general population thought of it as madness. Not that Joker couldn't be charismatic when he wanted to be. He had a neat turn of phrase, and an almost old fashioned sense of charm at times, but Joker generally thought it more fun and certainly more funny to terrify people. His violent mood swings helped him along in this. Harley, on the other hand, despite being quite quite insane, exerted a more benevolent air. She was small, curvy and athletic. When she worked alongside the man she loved she frequently wore a red and black Harlequin costume, but right then she was dressed comfortably in cut off black denim shorts and a red crop top. Her bleached blonde hair was caught up in the usual style of two ponytails on either side of her head, and her wide blue eyes gazed out about her with an open friendliness, and love for her obsession, Joker. It wouldn't do to be fooled by it though. For Harley was thoroughly obsessed with Joker, she was also insane, and had been either blessed or cursed with an overt sense of loyalty to those she loved. At any instant that dimpled smile could turn into one of gleeful malice as she set about causing trouble for those she'd felt wronged her man. Harley's nature was one of almost self-destruction, she stood by Joker through thick and thin although he beat her and left her behind and terrified the wits out of her. But at the same time, something in her which clung to her formerly independant nature, could likewise cause her to turn on him if she felt he'd finally taken one step too far. The only problem with that was he only had to say he was sorry for her to be back in his arms. And even when she cursed his name, her heart bled for she could never fully stop loving him. As she watched him now, contemplating his latest scheme, she felt that old familiar tightness in her chest. Harley enjoyed working with Joker, truly she did. He was a barrell of laughs,even when she was tremblin' scared. But Harley had a dream. Harley loved that scene in "The Little Shop of Horrors" where the character Audrey sings "Somewhere that's Green", a beautiful love song where Audrey envisaged her perfect home with her perfect husband. That was Harley's dream. In cold nights at Arkham Asylum when the sleeping medication had made her wet her pants, when her hair matted and the strait jacket made her arms go numb, Harley's vision blurred and her body trembled with pleasure as she imagined a Temple and a white wedding dress and Mistah J so handsome in a tuxedo and a big lovin smile all for her and no thoughts of Batman on his mind. Harley imagined lying in a hospital bed, panting and sweating as she cradled the new born, white skinned green hair bundle of joy she'd just birthed, as Mistah J handed out exploding cigars for all. And finally, Harley in her perfect home, with everything gleaming and purple and green, just the way Puddin liked it, and sending off little J-Junior to school and making Mistah J's dinner for him, after he came home from a long day of terrorizing. Unfortunately, then Harley would wake up, and her legs would be sticky, her arms would be sore and she'd have a chunk of hair in her mouth. Worse still, the space beside her would be empty, Puddin would be lying in his cell in the Men's Ward, alone and awake. He never slept in the Asylum. Harley sighed from where she leaned against the door frame, and started with surprise at the tear which rolled down her round cheek. She wiped it away hastily. Mistah J didn't like tears or frowns. Harley plastered a big smile on her face and tip toed over to her boyfriend, praying she wouldn't disturb him into a whacking mood. He snapped out of his reverie as she drew close, and hoisted her into his arms, kissing her neck vigorously. Her eyes squeezed shut in blissful relief as he again swung her around, and this time put her gently down. "Ahhh, Harley, but we're gonna have a ball!!" "Yer gonna let me come, Puddin?" she said, hardly daring to believe it. He feigned insult, placing one hand dramatically upon his chest. "But of course, my Harley Machine!! Where would I go without my itty bitty widdle preshy weshy??" He punctuated the last five words by taking one of her cheeks in either hand and squeezing, smiling down at her as though she were a toy. It hurt. Alot. But Harley smiled. Puddin was in a loving mood and there was no way she'd be taking that for granted while it lasted. She snuggled up close to him and rubbed her hips against his. He raised his eyebrows in surprise, as he always did when he was reminded she was a woman and not a pet. He tugged on her ponytails as she gazed up at him submissively, and after a moment's thought, he bent his head, neck and shoulders down to her level and kissed her. The best thing about Joker was he always put everything he had into his kisses, Harley thought as she returned in kind. Joker wrapped long arms around her and squeezed her tight, the belt rubbing against her back as he did so. Suddenly, Joker's eyes burst open. He let go of Harley, who couldn't hide the dissapointment on her face, and again held aloft the belt. "A-HA!! The Belt! We haven't a moment to lose, Harley Girl! Go get dressed, we have to go!!" Harley gazed up at him sadly. Damn! Nonetheless, she tried to distract him again. "But Puddin, what about yer pizza?" He clapped a hand to his face. "Oh yeah!!! Leave a note Harley, and some money for the delivery boy!" With a sigh and a shrug Harley turned to make her way to their bedroom and get changed into her costume. Had they been there when the pizza boy arrived, Joker would probably have shot him. But if he wanted to leave out some money, then she wasn't going to question it. She was rather a little too busy thinking about the oppurtunity she'd just missed. Meanwhile, Joker cackled as he looked happily at his belt. 

PARIS, 1472. 

Vicomtesse Ginevra de Vincennes strode purposefully down the long black corridor in the Palace of Justice. Like all the others it was stone, bare and cold, with intimidating high ceilings and sparse windows. A stranger would be lost amongst the building's labyrinthine twists and turns, but the Vicomtesse was by no means a stranger to the Palace. Tall and stately,she cut a striking figure in deep plum silk, heavily embroidered with silver thread, her thick black hair coiled around her head. Both the color of her dress and of her hair accentuated the deathly pallor of her skin, and she was faintly illuminous in the Palace's bleak half light. Guards drew hastily aside for her to pass, she showed no hesitation or uncertainty in her stride, and they saluted her respectfully as she swept past them, just a flicker of scorn lighting her large black eyes. She reached her destination finally, a huge solid oak door, and without bothering to announce herself with a knock, pushed it open and entered in a whirl of purple skirts. "Claude" she greeted the man who graced the tall and elaborately carved chair in front of the fireplace shortly. The man slowly averted his gaze from his steepled fingers and pulled it finally to focus on the Vicomtesse who stood in front of him in a strange attitude of defiance and respect. "Bella Donna" he responded, his voice running silkily over the nickname with just a trace of mockery. She waited, but he said nothing, a tiny, humorless smile bending his thin lips. Finally she spoke up with almost imperceptible impatience. "You wanted to see me, I believe." He did not respond for several moments. As she stood in front of him her face was completely blank, a smooth piece of painted silk, but inside she was aware of the dull thud of her heart. The man's superiority was infuriating, but his magnetism was enthralling for her, and she was alternatively resentful of his dominant nature and glad of the alleviation of boredom he provided her with. When Claude Frollo finally did respond, he raised himself slowly from the chair in which he sat, his tall, skinny frame betrayed by his palatable strength of will, just as his simple long black judges robes was betrayed by the expensive rings which decorated his hands. He glided over to where she stood, staring at him unflinchingly, as one long skeletal hand reached out to lightly brush her cheek. "My dear, your arrival is, as always, exceedingly fortuitous." She narrowed her large clear eyes at him and said coldly. "Don't play games with me, Claude. You sent a summons for me as soon as my husband left." He brought his hand back to him, clasping it with his other, turning and gliding away from her. "Oh? And what makes you so certain, my dear?" She bit down the violent retort on her lips. His condescension infuriated her because she knew herself to be his intellectual equal, as he knew it also. This game of aloofness and superiority he played was a deliberate goad, and one she was determined not to give into. Silently taking a deep breath, and allowing a tight smile on her face she responded calmly. "How else would you expect me interpret a jonguleur reciting 'La BellaDonna' at the gates of my estate? I felt it was rather crude to be honest, my dear Claude." The tone of sarcasm on the last of her words was not lost on her companion who turned to her again, his face and body lost in the shadows of the room they were in. He stood in such a way that only one of his eyes was visible to her in the light of the fire which did little to warm the room, but she could see this eye remained as calm as she herself had. He raised a fine eyebrow. "As you wish to believe, my Belladonna" he said smoothly, and she narrowed her eyes at him again. It would be useless to continue this line of conversation; he clearly would admit to nothing, and she had no desire to lose her temper and allow him to get the better of her. "As I am here now then, Claude, I hope you will do me the courtesy of explaining why my arrival is so fortuitous." "But of course, my dear." With an elegant flip of his long hand he gestured for her to take the chair which sat nearby his own. She accepted it formally, settling into it carefully so that her dress would not crease. She sat erect and with her chin high, her eyes never leaving her companion who glided sedately over to his own chair,and took it gracefully. He did not begin talking straight away, instead he slowly filled two silver goblets with red wine from a nearby bottle, and handed one to the Vicomtesse, who took it with a slight nod. Then he sat back, contemplating the contents of his cup, his eyes hardening and his lips curling ever so slightly at his thoughts. "I have in my dungeons, at present my dear, three of the gypsy vermin which plague this fair city. I have no doubt that they are guilty of the crime for which they have been accused, that is theft, but at present have no solid evidence by which to convict them." He paused for a moment and she spoke up, her voice brittle and cold. "I sincerely hope you are not expecting me to adopt the dress of those heathens and go amongst them as a spy, as you have persuaded some of you other female...friends to do. If that is the case, Claude, I am sure you will understand why I will return to my estate this afternoon." A small smile escaped his mouth. "Of course not, my dear. Such activity is beneath you. No, what I had in mind should in no way affront your dignity. I was of the mind that perhaps upon seeing my prisoners you would be reminded of three gypsy who passed by your estate last fall, and took some of your best silver with them." She pursed her lips and her black eyes turned sly. "I am missing no silver, Claude." He raised his eyebrows in mock surprise, still gazing at the red liquid in his goblet. "You're not?" His voice abruptly hardened, just a twinge of impatience, just a hint of a not to be toyed with now, BellaDonna. "Well, something else then." Her eyes were again expresionless and she gave a slow nod. "Now that you mention it, I have noticed a few valuable heirlooms are nowhere to be found." His smile widened in smug satisfaction. "I rather thought you would, BellaDonna." She raised her glass to him silently, and took a drink. Vicomtesse Ginevra de Vincennes was a highly intelligent and educated woman. She was also cold, calculating and disdainful of the general population. Forced into a marriage because her ruthless tongue had caused embarrasment to her Italian father, she was bored and resentful of a domestic life, and her poetry, once scathingly brilliant, had reflected this. Until she met Claude Frollo that is. She'd been thrilled to meet someone who scorned the common rabble as she herself did, an educated and ferociously superior man, and disdainful of social morality, had quite happily entered into an extra marital affair with him. That had been just two short years ago, and they had collaborated together whenever Ginevra's husband was away,which was frequently. Frollo's main purpose in life - what she secretly called his obsession - was to rid France of the Romany population. He often employed her services to aid him in this, and although she felt his mission was slightly frenzied, she certainly sympathised. The Romany were a blotch on the otherwise pleasant landscape of France, and she could barely hide a sneer whenever one of them passed by her carriage. They were dirty, uncivilised and stupid. But unlike Frollo they did not plague her mind or hold her attention for indefinite amounts of time. She applauded Frollo's efforts, but would not have been active in them had it not been for the relationship between herself and Frollo. He stimulated her mind and her heart, and she would use any excuse to be in his company as opposed to languishing on a chaise lounge and struggling to write words which had once flown from her pen effortlessly. She supposed that she felt some degree of love for him, no other explanation for bearing his condescension sprang readily to mind. Frollo was a man typical of his generation - disdainful of women's intellect, and whilst he certainly appreciated Ginevra's intelligence as superior to others of her sex, he still saw it as inferior to his own. The reality was that the Minister of Justice, as he was, used the Vicomtesse as it suited him. A reality that, for all her intelligence, the Vicomtesse could not see, so pleased had she been to find a mind akin to her own. The Vicomtesse was perhaps not divinely beautiful, she was, nonetheless, amazingly good looking. Her height, in combination with her large dark eyes and hair, and pale skin, made it certain she was always noticed and admired wherever she went, and the challenging, open expression she invariably wore invited one to look again and again. The Minister was a slightly different story. Close to twenty years her senior, he was a man whose life was governed by a strict moral code. It was unfortunate that this moral code was in turn governed by fear, suspicion, prejudice and overbearing self-righteousness. Immensely tall and gaunt, his face would of been handsome had it not been marred by the thin cruelty of his lips, the haughty slant of his eyebrows, the cold and calculating gleam in his eye. His cheeks were sunken and his skin deathly pale from lack of exposure. A man of lower birth, he had progressed through the Courts until being made Minister in 1461. Since then he had devoted himself wholehearted to ridding France of the Romany population. To be a Gypsy in Paris was worse than being born deformed - Frollo employed guards who shared his ideas, and if they had nothing on you, they would find something. Tales of torture in the dungeons of the ironically named Palace of Justice spread through the city like a flood, horror stories Romany mothers fed their dirty necked, wide eyed children, to keep them close to their skirts. It was an obsession, and a dangerously violent one. A modern psychologist of the twentieth century would of diagnosed his war on the Romany as a subconscious means of ridding himself of his own temptation and what he thought of as base desires. However, he had been graced with a powerful magnetism of person, the same magnetism that held otherwise independant women like the Vicomtesse, in his enthrall and subsequently, power. He had regard for the Vicomtesse, but saw her in a light lower than himself - further strengthened by the fact of her willingness to indulge in an adulterous relationship. The nickname he used for her - BellaDonna - had been taken from a mocking poem written about the Vicomtesse some years earlier, and he was the only one she tolerated calling her by that name. They made an odd, yet somehow well suited couple, superior, disdainful, intelligent and cruel in ideas they firmly held as right. Working together they could be considerably dangerous to their chosen enemies. It was these two people Joker decided to visit first. 

GOTHAM CITY, 1999. 

Columbine Mountebank burst into Joker & Harley's "Ha-Hacienda", a garish motley of lavish trappings and old carnival discards, and headed for their bedroom. An enormous Clown's Head with a demented wide open grin for a mouth, graced one corner. It was once the entry to a Circus ride, now it housed the elaborately covered green and purple bed. An enormous desk of black marble, behind which stood Joker's "throne", a huge artifact topped with a head in Joker's image and enormous playing cards, filled another corner. An orange couch was lavishly strewn with plush cushions, and the red and black carpet was five inches thick. Posters of Abbot & Costello, Charlie Chaplin, the Marx Brothers and Rik Mayall & Ade Edmondson (the last two Harley's choice) decorated the walls, and an elaborate chemistry set stood on a small carved black table,something dripping from one of the testubes steadily burning a hole through the wood. The large wardrobes and many, many mirrors, were draped alternatively with Joker's expensive and elaborate suits, and Harley's frilly underwear and skimpy shorts and tops. A few other remnants of Harley lay about - her portable CD, nailpolish, hair baubles, fluffy slippers and a few magazines, and Columbine's eye graced them all lovingly. "Harley, get up!" she called to the bed, overshadowed by the Clown's mouth. There was no answer. Sighing, Columbine strode over to the bed. "Come on, sweetie!!! We've got plans to make, remember?" She poked the bed and her dark eyebrows shot up when she realised it was empty. Then she frowned. "That's that bastard Joker making her do things again" she growled to herself. "Just when we have some time together he takes her away from me!" She whumped the bed with her fists in frustration, knocking the note Harley had written into the air. Columbine leapt on it with a cry of glee, and brought it out into the light, reading what Harley had hastily scrawled. "Columbs BABY!!!" Columbine read "Hey, sweetie pop, I'm REAAAAALY sorry we can't go do what we planned, but Mistah J's got planned this whacky (but utterly brilliant) adventure for us to go on SO I gotta go be with him, BUT here's whatcha do if ya wanna come join us (and I'd love that!!) Go find this whacky zany belt. It's brown leather and it has like a big silver ball on one end and a little program console on the other. (I don't know where you get them,sorry!) Then you program the date into the console (we're in Paris, 1472 BTW) and then you put it around you and plug the console into the silver ball and WHAMMO! Bob's yer Uncle!! Hope ya come!! Lots of love, Your bestest friend in all the world who loves and adores ya, Harls. xxxxxxx" Columbine frowned as she read it. Trust Joker!!! TRUST JOKER!!!!!!! Columbine's blood boiled and she clenched her fists together tightly and gritted her teeth. She wanted to be with Harley!She wasn't going to let that lunatic take her away from her!!!!!!! Columbine read the note over again. She knew about the belts. She also knew where to get one. She *would* go and join up with Harley. 

© Harley Quinn 1999 (harley_quinn@cheerful.com) May not be reproduced without permission. 


	2. Default Chapter Title

Mort Rit En Dernier - Chapter Two 

PARIS, 1472. 

Mirage Lavoie strained and stretched out every inch of her body as she stood on the barrell, struggling to reach her violin's bow where it perched on the thatched roof of a small house. It was *just* beyond her reach, and she gritted her teeth and tossed hair out of her eyes and once again strained. The bow had found it's way up there when Mirage's best friend and companion, Irea Triunne, had noticed Mirage's violin playing was getting considerably more audience than her magik show. But now the audience had gone, the sun was setting and the guard would be making their evening rounds. The two girls wanted to be away safely before that happened, but there would be no way Mirage would leave without her bow. "Hurry up!" Irea hissed from her place on the cobblestones below and Mirage turned to her with a considerably unladylike gesture. "I'm trying! If it wasn't for you I wouldn't be in this situation!" "Aw, don't be mad!" Mirage sighed and stood up higher on tiptoe "I'm not mad, but really!" Irea grinned to herself then muttered a few words under her breath. With a start, the bow leapt off the roof and into Irea's outstretched hand. Mirage turned to her and looked down from the barrel with narrowed eyes. "Verrrrry funny!" she said drily. Then leapt off the barrel, and grasping hands with her friend, the two began to make their way through the streets of Paris, back to their home in the Court of Miracles. Mirage was a Romany through and through. She had grown up all her life amongst the gypsy, and it was the only life she knew and wanted. Tall, slender and dark skinned, her black hair was unusually straight for a gypsy girl, and her fingers were long and tapered. Mirage called herself "Jackie-of-All-Trades" as she was rather fond of trying her hand at anything that came to pass. Unfortunately, she either lost interest before she became any good at it, or was simply not destined to be good at it. With a few exceptions. One of them being her violin. Mirage was an excellent player, considering she'd had only a few lessons from her long departed father as a girl, and her playing was popular on the streets of Paris, and was the prime source of Mirage's meals. Lively, unaffected, smart and full of fun, Mirage was highly adept at avoiding the onslaught of guards on the streets, and extremely resourceful when it came to surviving on only a few coins for a week or two. Irea, on the other hand, was only part Romany. Losing her parents at an early age, she'd been lost in the thick woods of France when she'd been adopted into the realm of Faerie. Living there for many years, she learned the art of magik before returning to her original world,and being found by Mirage in the very same woods she'd been lost in so long ago. Her gypsy blood made her welcomed among the Romany, and it wasn't long before she adapted into the world of mortals, only her strangely pointed ears betraying her previous life,a nice contrast to her dark skin,black eyes, and scruffy black hair. Irea's art was magik, an art she peddled on the streets to keep her fed, within reason and mindful of the prejudice against "witches". Irea's sense of humor was sometimes mystifying to her friends, as she'd learned it in the realm of Faerie, but like Mirage she was light-hearted and mischevious, desiring a good time as opposed to anything else. The two girls were the best of friends, inseparable and entirely loyal. In a world where hatred of their kind fed the Parisians who dominated the streets, they fought for a little more justice, a treatment more fair for their people. It was unrealistic to imagine them creating riots, or writing propaganda poetry (neither of them could write, or read for that matter), rather they were ostentaious on the streets of Paris, unashamed and earning money for themselves honestly, two tall slender birds who sang loudly and showed little fear in the face of conflict. Streetwise and smart, they had good hearts which endeared them to their people and burned strongly for their friends. But right then, the girls weren't thinking about much other than getting home. The guard had begun their round, and they darted from shadow to shadow like cats out for the hunt, pausing and looking around carefully as the day grew darker and older, clutching hands and grinning at each other with the thrill of the journey. 

** 

At the exact instant the two young and innocent gypsy girls were making their way home, Joker kicked open the door of the Palace of Justice and strode inside, grinning joyously to himself, Harley faithfully at his heels. Once inside Joker held up a hand for Harley to stop, and indicated that they had to be quiet. Then he began an exaggerated tip toe. Harley giggled and followed in kind, and the two went tip-tip-toeing up the huge marble staircase and on into the maze of corridors above. "Great" Joker pouted, stopping and putting his hands on his hips. "Trust Ole Frolly Boy to have his pad designed by the same guy who wrote the Where's Waldo books. What I wouldn't give to have Bud and Lou here with me now. But hang on! Is this an infra-red tracker in my pocket or am I just happy to see me?" with a laugh, Joker thrust one long gloved hand into his pocket and pulled out a small metal device. Switching it on, he gestured over his shoulder for Harley to follow, and then began a sprint down the deserted corridors. In and out, round and round, the two went, until finally two bright red dots flickered to life on the small screen Joker held in front of his face. With a delighted cry of triumph, during which Harley looked around nervously in fear of beng heard, Joker took up his pursuit again, more frenzied than ever. Harley struggled to keep up, tugging on the huge duffel bag loaded with provisions they'd brought, looking surreptiously up at the tall corridors which reminded her a little too much of good ole Arkham Asylum for comfort. By the time she reached her lover again, he was standing with outstretched arms, a huge leer on his face, in front of a large oak door. Harley gaped up at this enormous door, then looked curiously at her boyfriend. "This is it,folks, the moment you've heard about and waited for!" he whispered to himself. Grasping the iron door handle, he turned it vigorously, and thrust the door wide open. Inside,the Vicomtesse and the Minister rose hastily and furiously to their feet. That a subordinate should dare open the door without knocking was certainly a punishable crime. Side by side in the orange glow of the fire, they were a fearsome sight, two tall, scowling beings, but deep in the shadows of the doorway,Joker only grinned to see it. "What is the meaning of this?" Frollo demanded fiercely. Joker straighted his tie, ran a hand through his hair, then stepped amicably forward, arms outstretched in a friendly greeting. The flickering light lit up his dead white skin, and the grin which stretched from ear to ear was illuminated eerily. Taller and thinner than either of them, in the strange half light of the room, emerging as he did from the very shadows, Joker looked the very visage of death, and both the Vicomtesse and the Minister gave a gasp and drew back. "Frollo, mah brotha" Joker burst out jovially "I'm the guy you've been waiting to meet!!!!" And with that he laughed. 

GOTHAM CITY, 1999. 

Columbine broke into the iron vaults of GCPD almost without effort. GCPD was the only Police HQ in the whole of America that needed these types of vaults. They housed evidence from crimes that were - slightly unusual. Not of this world, you might say.Joker's time travelling belt was one such item. And Columbine knew very well that there was more than one. She moved stealthily in the darkness through the assorted filing cabinets and lockers, her trained eyes seeking carefully and quickly. Columbine was a shockingly skilled martial artist who'd spend a great deal of time in both France and Japan learning the art of thievery and fighting. Very tall, very beautiful, very strong, she was an imposing figure and one that should be feared. Elegant and graceful, Columbine dressed predominantly in blue as a compliment to her best friend and partner in crime,the red clad Harley Quinn. Columbine adored Harley fervently, who returned the affection in kind, however Harley's attention was consideraby divided by the Joker, an interference Columbine sorely resented. To add food to the fire, Columbine was quite insane. Her love of Harley bordered on obsession, and coupled with her intimidating skills, and ferocious nature, Columbine was a highly dangerous individual. In fact her love for Harley went further even then total dependance, for if Columbine was separated from Harley for too long, a truly evil and savage being take place over Columbine's mind, the identity of Lazara Pitt. It was Lazara's sole intention to rule the world, and she had no affections for Harley, and a very strong desire to destroy humanity. Everyone was careful to make sure that anywhere Columbine was, Harley wasn't too far away. It was interesting that the two people Harley loved most in the world should both be such dominant, insane and dangerously intelligent people, but there it was. Columbine's mind was sharpened by her insanity, she was ruthless when it came to Harley, and although by her nature she was a loving and loyal person, her need to protect Harley from the ills of the world, in particular Joker, made her seem a frenzied being of aggression. Capable of great softness and humor, nonetheless her face was often a beautiful mask of determination and strength. Just as Joker was Harley's sole reason for turning to a life of total wickedness, so Harley had been Columbine's. Although she had been a thief in France, it had been solely as a stand against the life of wealth and prejudice she had been brought up in with her parents. Was the predisposition to be insane always there, or was it something that had just appeared when she met Harley? The doctors wondered, just as they did over Harley's insanity. Perhaps it was a question that would never be answered, but Columbine didn't much care. If she was with Harley that was all that mattered. And she wanted very much to be with Harley now. Coming to the locker which read "Case #3245. UNSOLVED. Evidence - "Mega City Dimension Jump" Columbine stopped, and a sweetly satisfied smile curved her bowshaped blue lips. This is what she had come for. Opening the lock took a matter of seconds, and reaching inside, she brought out three black plastic bags. One was empty. The other two - reaching inside one, Columbine's smile grew wider as she pulled out the long slender strip of leather. "Harley, here I come!" she whispered delightedly to herself. Programming into the small console "P.F#2 - 1472" Columbine wrapped the belt around her small waist, and pushed the console into the silver ball. Instantly, the room around her blurred, and mixed together, like wet paint. The colors of night - blue, grey and black, swirled together then spun. A roaring in her ears squeezed her eyes shut tight, and she gritted her teeth. Abruptly, the roaring stopped, and the stifling sense of GCPD's vaults was replaced by a cool wind. A sharp smell of rain and wood and rotten vegetables struck her nose, and she opened her large brown eyes and gazed about her. She was in Medieval Paris. 

PARIS, 1472. 

Frollo had been about to call for the guard when Joker laughed. It silenced him instantly, but his thoughts raced. "A demon! An unholy Demon! Desecrating the sanctity of the Palace! For what purpose has he come?" these thougths ran irrationally through his mind. The Vicomtesse, on the other hand, though certainly unnerved by Joker's laughter, was not so superstitous. "A deranged lunatic" she thought "but why is he here, and what is wrong with his face?" Despite their trepidation, the two stood their ground, glaring at the tall pale figure in the doorway, who finally finished his mirthless laugh, and removed his very strange hat before sweeping into the room. Seeing him more clearly by the light of the fire they obvserved his strange clothes in wonderment, the bizarre ostentaiousness of his movement, the unusual color of his skin and hair. The Vicomtesse felt, with a sickening feeling in her stomach, that the lunatic was not wearing makeup. Joker wondered around with a happy sigh, looking at the sparse tapestries on the wall, admiring the craftsmanship of the furniture, blissfully unaware of it's occupants. The Minister found his voice. "What is the meaning of this? Who are you? How dare you enter the Palace, this is a sacred place." Joker chose to let his attention be taken. "Sacred ya say, eh? Well, Frolly,my friend, I've never much been one for what's sacred. Not unless I can desecrate it!!" And he laughed again before the Minister could make a retort to that. The first of Frollo's fears had vanished and he now shared the Vicomtesse's opinion that this was a maniac from some foreign land. As a result, his fury was rising rapidly. "Would you like to explain yourself before my guards drag you down to the dungeons, or would you rather go there directly?" Joker pulled his large mouth down into an exaggerated frown,and meekly held his fedora in both hands. "Aw, now now Claudie. You wouldn't want to do that to ole Joker here, now wouldja?" Out in the candlelit gothic hallway, Harley was waiting with a very modern gun. "Cause I can tell ya right now, you wouldn't like the consequences!" Frollo started forward furiously "Consequences? You dare to speak to me of consequences? You who have broken into my home and assaulted me?" Joker arrogantly held up a hand, with a sly grin. "Aw, comeon, don't be mad Frollo-Wollo!!! I'm one of your biggest fans!" The oddity of the word in the context Joker used it was enough to quiet Frollo. "Fan?" he questioned archly. Joker's expression abruptly changed again, to one of surprised realisation "Oh yeah!" he exclaimed, smacking a hand against his cheek "I forgot! We're in the olden days now! *ahem* Frollo, my man, I'm one of your largest admirers!!" Frollo raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?" Encourgaged Joker leapt into what was previously the Vicomtesse's chair, as she glowered at the strange man in outrage too great to speak. "Yeah!! I love your work!Such style! Such panache!!" The Minister's eyebrow dropped again. "It's not about style - or er 'panache'. It's about doing what is right and just." Joker stared at him for a second "Oh yeah - that too. ANYWAY I know it was kinda rude for me to drop in unanounced like this, so how about I give you a rundown on little ole meesie?" It was Frollo's turn to stare. Joker corrected himself "How about I tell you about myself and where I come from?" A sarcastic smile twisted the Minister's mouth. "I would be delighted." Joker picked up on the sarcasm and gave the Minister a strange and sly sideways look which wiped the smile abruptly off his face. "Well, I'm EVA so GLAHD shugah!" He shrieked. "Hmm....where to begin....ah of course! At the beginning. No wait,that'll take too long..hmmm" The Vicomtesse stared incredulously at this ridiculous creature before folding her arms in impatience and glaring at Frollo who made a slight gesture that she was to be silent, for now. "Ah-ha! I know!" Joker continued "My dear buddy Frollo, I am the Ruler of a Strange and Foreign Land, very far away from this one, hence my strange clothes and way of speech! But even so far away, word of the Great Frollo reached our shores, and inspired by your mission, I have come to offer you my services!" As bizaare as the story was, Frollo was intrigued. Steepling his fingers and looking thoughtfully at Joker he said "Go on" Swinging his long legs up over the arm of the chair he straddled, Joker put his arms beind his head and grinned at Frollo, waggling his eyebrows. "It's come to my understanding you have a *slight* problem with scummus gypsius" Frollo raised an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?" "THE ROMANY!" Joker screeched. Both the Vicomtesse and the Minister started, and Joker gave an apologetic chuckle before sitting up, swinging his legs back over and leaning forward to face the Judge. "As I was saying - the gypsy are the BAAAAANE of your life, the fly in your wine, the itch in your undies - and I'm here to help you get rid of them." Frollo's mouth was a very straight line and the Vicomtesse's eyes were scornful. "How exactly do you propose to do that,you maniac? As far as I can tell you are but one man, obviously deranged and a stranger to this land. Care to enlighten me as to how you will rid the whole of Paris of the vermin my men have been unsuccessful in vanquishing?" Joker grinned a very wicked grin, and his purple eyes lit up eerily in the light of the fire "Oooooh" he said softly "by no means legal!" The Minister had had enough. Rising to his feet again, he pointed righteously at the door."Illegal then, I take it you mean? May I remind you I am the Minister of Justice? I am not interested in any of your underhand methods!" The Vicomtesse stopped glowering at the Joker long enough to look scornfully at the Minister. He was completely unaware of the hypocrisy in his last statement. Frollo continued. "You may leave, and I strongly advise you leave the entire city,for on the morrow I shall instruct my men to arrest anyone meeting your description." Joker had stood up also, his face one of shocked surprise. "Now hang on, hang on, hang on!" he said placatingly, walking over to the Minister and placing a friendly hand on his shoulder, looking down at him. Frollo started. Even through the thick cloth of his robes and the Joker's gloves, Frollo could feel the coldness of Joker's skin. "Did I ever say YOU would be doing anything illegal? No of course not! You'd have to be crazy to suggest illegal activity to such an upstanding moral guy as yourself! No, all I wanted to suggest is that you let *me* take care of things for you. Turn your head, so to speak. And don't be so hasty, Claudie Baby, at least not until you witness what I've got on offer!" With his other hand Joker reached inside his pocket and took out a slender glass vial, filled with a luminous green liquid. He held it up for Frollo to see.Frollo's eyes narrowed as he looked at it, and then at Joker, and the delighted smile which warped Joker's face. "What is that?" He asked finally. Joker's smile widened. "Allow me to show you" he whispered. "Perchance, are there any prisoners awaiting their sentence in the dungeons?" Frollo looked at the vial in Joker's hands and then at Joker's brilliant purple eyes. Joker's eyes had a life to them you couldn't see unless you looked at them straight on, and saw it - a strange livid spark in the very center. Frollo felt a shiver go down his back. The lunatic man was serious. Frollo made his decision. "Very well. I sincerely hope you're not wasting my time" Joker laughed triumphantly. "Oh trust me on this one, Claudie. It'll SLAY ya!" 

** 

Columbine stared around her at the dark streets of Paris at night in the fifteenth century. It was dirty, it smelt bad, and the houses were small and cramped, the bawdy voices of drunks and screeching children rising out of the windows like an insane man's song. "Just my luck to wind up in the bad part of town" she muttered crossly to herself. "Now to find Harley. And to find Harley I'll have to find Joker, as this is clearly his scheme. But what the hell would Joker want with Medieval France?" Her mind took her back to her old friend Lupin, leader of the Thieves Guild in France, a man she had worked under for several years. Lupin had told her the Thieves Guild had first formed in Paris in the early sixteenth century, under the leadership of a man named Clopin Trouillefou, later under Geraud de Chagny, and then so on up until Lupin. Trouillefou had been known as one of the Romany - a gypsy, and a vagabond, though by all accounts an otherwise good man who had formed the guild along a Robin Hood principle. This of course was not known to the general world, only to those within the Guild. However, this information was virtually useless to her, except that if Trouillefou had been a man in his early fities when he began the Guild, then he would obviously be alive somewhere in Paris today. Trouillefou's early life had been characterised by the passtimes of a jonguleur - a street performer. He had also been dubbed "King of Thunes" and "Gypsy King" - whether that was self dubbed, or something others had given him, Columbine didn't know, but he had been respected as the leader of the Romany in Paris for most of his life, and was apparantly connected to all the goings on of the underworld. Apart from this information, and some facts about the lifestyle of medieval parisians, Columbine knew nothing else about this time. She *knew* she should of read something before leaving, but she'd been so anxious to see Harley....no matter. This Trouillefou might be able to give her some clues as to what Joker might possibly want from 1472 in Paris. First thing in the morning she would look for him. But right now - she may as well utilise her time and look for Harley. Keeping to the shadows she began a stealthy sprint along the streets. For one of her skills, surviving in this time would be barely enough to work up a sweat, but best to be careful. Abruptly she drew to a stop as she sensed movement near by. Retreating further into the shadow thrown by a dingy house, her sharp eyes followed the two female figures as they darted in and out of buildings, clutching hands. Narrowing her eyes she peered at them more closely, observing their tatty and colorful clothes, bare feet, and dark skin. Gypsies. Perhaps she would track down Trouillefou sooner than she thought. Columbine silently cartwheeled out of the shadows and took up sprinting after the retreating figures. 

** 

© Harley Quinn 1999 (harley_quinn@cheerful.com) May not be reproduced without permission. 


	3. Default Chapter Title

Mort Rit En Dernier - Chapter Three 

Harley had kept to the shadows, as Mistah J had instructed her, and had not let herself be seen, as the three tall and thin figures had sedately left the large bare room and walked down the large bare corridor. She'd tiptoed after them very carefully and very quietely. Mistah J did not want them to know she was here just yet. Mistah J trusted noone, least of all a fella like Frollo, and he wanted to have an ace up his sleeve. Harley was proud to be that ace, and was determined to do a good job. She hoisted the duffel bag high up over her shoulder, and clutched the thick black gun in both hands and crept along at a safe distance behind the three in front of her. They reached the large marble staircase she and Puddin had first climbed up and went down it. Turning a sharp corner, they reached another set of stairs and went down them also. From then on it was steadily downwards. They were going into the dungeons, Harley realised, a thought that was confirmed by the stench that hit her nose suddenly! Phew!!!!!! Yuk!! It was worse than putting all of Arkham's incontinents in a room together! Worse than the way Two-Face's scarred half smelt when it got wet! Yuk yuk yuk!!! Harley wrinkled her nose in disgust. Oh pleeeeeeease let them finish up in here quickly!!!! The dungeons were cramped cells along the walls, the floor loosly covered with filthy straw, the doors thick black bars. Infrequent oil lamps blazed, throwing orange and red shadows on the wall and adding to the frightening nature of the place. In the center was the torture area, a place that reminded her vaguely of one of Mistah J's "special" rooms, large spiked chairs, huge clamping devices, a large flat board to stretch fragile little bodies on.....man she was thankful bondage and a bit of spanking was as far as Mistah J got when he wanted to play with her. The rest was saved up for others. She didn't know the names of half the instruments in the dungeons, and to be honest, she didn't *wanna* know! Harley peeked around a pillar stained with something dark. A good way in front of her, Frollo had stopped in front of one of the cells, and withdrew a large ring of keys from one of the folds in his robes, as Joker stood behind him, hands on his hips, grinning gleefully. The other one, the bitchy looking chick, stood behind them, her nose wrinkled in disgust, her facial expression one of *just* tolerating her surroundings. Before they'd come down, all three had interduced themselves, and the chick's name was - er - Victimessie Ginebakjgfsdjkgfsk or something. Yikes! Whatever. The other one, Claude Frollo, Harley really *didn't* like the look of. He reminded her of that Demon's Head Dude - Ra's Al Ghul.Looking all superior and high and mighty and stuff, as though he thought he were better than her Puddin!! Harley's blood boiled to think of it. Oh well - at least Mistah J was *reeaaaaalllly* gonna prove him wrong. She grinned to herself and waited patiently with her gun cocked. 

In the cell Frollo had unlocked, he and Joker entered, Frollo kicking at the three huddled forms curled up in the straw. They awoke frantically, and sat up, clinging to each other desperately, and blinking blearily from beneath red rimmed, dark eyes. Three women. Beautiful (had they not been so dirty) and dark and soft and warm. Joker smiled at the deliciousness of it all. Women could be the most fun to play with at times. They were so fragile and they smelt so good and they were always so warm to touch, and he loved the way that in the end, their eyes always had the same soft and bleary expression as they gazed out at him. Frollo looked down at them with a gaze of disdainful disgust, then gestured towards them contemptuously. "Well, 'Joker', here is your oppurtunity to show your worth. Again I warn you, you had best not to be wasting my time." Joker barely looked at Frollo. He could taste the women's fears as they gazed up at him, seeing him with the bare sight so many gypsy women had, seeing him for what he really was, and terrified of him because of it. It tasted so good. He could see himself in their eyes, a gory white god of death. Shaitan, their eyes screamed , it is Shaitan he has come for me! Joker reached into his pocket and pulled out his vial. Reaching into his other pocket, he pulled out a corked syringe, and all the while his gaze never left the three frightened women. He filled the syringe with the liquid from the vial, carefully resealed it, and put it away again. Then he leaned forward, bending right over, and seized the first woman by her dark, thin wrist. She screamed in terror as Joker's icy touch burned right into her, and struggled to get away,not daring to touch what she thought to be Death Itself, but struggling savagely to escape his grip. But Joker was imperturbable. Fully intent upon his goal, his strength was at it's fore, and his grip on the woman was immoveable. Pulling her to her feet, he let go of her wrist, and then seized her curly black hair with lightning speed. Wrenching her head back, he jabbed the syringe into her neck, then let her drop back down again. The other two women, clinging to each other and weeping, were taken care of just as quickly, and Joker recorked his syringe, and stood back with a grin and a sneaky look at Frollo who watched the goings on with curiosity. It didn't happen right away. The three women clung to each other again, their heads buried down as far as they could, and so Frollo did not even see it happen when it begun. Then he noticed the first woman's shoulders were shaking. A strange noise began to come from her, quiet at first, but growing in volume. The woman's shoulders shook harder, and the noise grew louder, and Frollo realised she was laughing! The other two began to join in, and within a few seconds the three women had thrown their heads back and were laughing uncontrollably as tears ran down their cheeks and their hands clawed at the air. Frollo's mouth fell open as a chill trembled down his spine, and he took a hasty step backwards, straight into the Vicomtesse who had stepped forward in amazement to see what was causing the noise. For a minute which seemed an hour, the doomed gypsies rolled on the floor in convulsions, laughing maniacally. Suddenly the first one let out a strangled noise, shuddered and was still. Her two companions followed suit. Frollo saw, with a wave of nausea, that their mouths were stretched into a hideous grin, a death rictus unlike any he had seen before. Their eyes stayed wide open, staring blankly outwards, and their skin was paling quickly. Joker let out a happy little sigh. That had been bliss. He turned to the two stunned Medieval Europeans who continued to stare in amazement at the corpses, the Vicomtesse, despite herself, clinging to the Minister's shoulder, both pairs of eyes wide and disbelieving. Joker wiped the sweat from his brow with a green silk handerchief and spoke to them then, startling them out of their thoughts. "The way I see it, Claudie ole pal, a terrible plague could strike the Gypsy population,bumping 'em off quicker than that old Black Death thing. And just in case anyone questions the Finger of God, well they've got those big ole smiles don't they? I'm sure the Minister of Justice could convine the public that Shattin or Shutdown or whatever the hell they call the Devil, marked them with his Unholy Hand so that all may know they delighted in Vice!" Frollo swallowed, and ran a hand through his sparse white hair. He looked down again at the gypsy corpses, barely daring to believe what he had just witnessed. He looked again at The Joker, who leaned causally against the bars, grinning at him amicably. Frollo suddenly realised the benefits of this madman's visit. "You realise noone must ever know of our meeting tonight?" He said to Joker hoarsely. Joker outstretched his hand with a "would I tell?" grin. "Frollo, my friend, you'll be Mr Innocent! I promise!" After a moment's hesitation through which the Vicomtesse gazed at the Joker suspiciously, Frollo reached out his own skeletal hand and shook Joker's firmly. Joker threw back his head and laughed delightedly. "Alllright then!Let the good times roll!!!!!!" 

** 

Keeping on the two gypsy girl's trail had been no problem. Columbine deftly wove her way through the maze of streets they darted randomly through, clearly as a means to lose any would-be tracker. Columbine was relatively unfamiliar with the layout of medieval Paris, but she was mentally mapping out the streets they traversed and commiting them to memory. She wondered if the girls were headed for an encampment on the outskirts of the city, or the famed Court of Miracles. She'd be highly irritated if it were the Court, as the Court was now a tourist attraction in twentieth century Paris. Still, she consoled herself, this is medieval Paris, and things change greatly in five hundred years. But it was small consolation. Columbine felt her temper rise as the two girls reached a large graveyard, beautifully carved stone crypts dotting the lush earth, the moon hanging overhead like a dead eye and illuminating cold grey and silver tombstones. The graveyard was the well known entrance to the Court. So she had wasted time tracking these girls!! Columbine took a deep breath and crouched low behind a stone angel, watching as the two girls darted in and out, careful not to tread on any of the graves, glancing surreptiously behind them, before arriving finally at the large cross which headed the sarcophagi that was the cleverly disguised entrance to the Court of Miracles. She supposed it wasn't all bad. The gypsies would doubtlessly be aware of all the news within the city. She could hide herself amongst them and listen. In the morning she could leave again and begin doing what was important - that is - looking for Harley. After some struggling during which Columbine noticed the taller of the two girl's hands were glowing, the girls pushed the sarcopahgi lid to one side and clambered inside, pulling it over above them again. She waited a few seconds, then in three backflips was crouching before the sarcophagi. She tittered to herself a little as she thought over the entrance. It was clever yes, but perhaps on retrospect not so clever, as sarcophagi were commonly housed *within* a crypt, as opposed to sitting above the earth for all the world to see. No matter, no Medieval Parisian would ever dare to desecrate a grave by peering inside it, not unless they knew what to expect within. Columbine gritted her teeth, grasped either edge of the heavy slab of stone, and pushed it quickly out of the way. That hadn't been so bad. Easy in fact. Pleased, she slipped gracefully in, and heaved the lid back in place. She darted down the roughly hewn steps which led down below the ground and on into the ancient catacombs. She wrinkled her nose in disgust at the stench of sewage and dead flesh, but stayed where she was, in an attitude of alertness, until her eyes adjusted to the light, and then began to make her way speedily down the tunnel. She had no particular desire to trudge through the sewage. Not only would her shoes get dirty, but the noise would alert anyone nearby of her approach. Leaping into the air she swung onto one of the manmade wooden beams which stretched across the natural stone ceiling of the cave. Bracing herself she flung her body forward, long years of training guiding her by instinct and strength,and grasped the wooden beam several feet in front of the one she'd just leapt from. She pulled herself up onto that one, then repeated the process. The tunnel was short, and it was not long before she reached the end. Snatches of song wandered out to her, a warm yellow glow lit the side of the tunnel. Opposite it she could see a passage. Leaning to the side a small way she caught a glimpse of more crudely cut steps. No guard. There had been none down the tunnel either,which she thought very strange. The liklihood of her being defeated by untrained street vagabonds who were probably in poor health was so slim however she didn't allow herself to think about it much before leaping elegantly down to land silently in front of the passage and that steps which would take her down to the Court. Edging forward carefully she peered cautiously on into the huge natural cavern the Gypsies had chosen for their Sanctuary. 

The Court was set out just as though it were a gypsy encampment on a hillside in the country. To the left of the entrance from the graveyard, a large stage dominated the area, flanked by huge strips of elabroately patterened fabric, offsetting the malevolent nature of the gallows that were the main feature of this platform.A large square area spanned out in front of the stage, and set up within this space were gypsy caravan stalls. The purpose of the Court was to be as self sufficient as possible, so to reduce the necessity to do too much business with the prejudiced Parisians. The stalls sold meat, linen, vegetables, crockery and other essential wares. Opposite the stage, a stream had been dug into the Court from a natural spring that had been discovered, and it was here the romani women did their washing, gossiping to each other about their rascally husbands and wicked children. Tents fanned out in wide circles,"streets" dividing them. The first row were tents used for baths and sickrooms. From then on it was personal tents, in no particular order. The gypsies had a King, whose leadership they followed, but there was no other ranking order. The King himself, whilst he loved attention and adoration, had no desire to be placed higher than his fellows, he much preferred the company of others. The whole encampment was sparked with the scent of incense and spices, and flickered in a friendly way in the warm orange and yellow glow of the lamps set up at frequent intervals. The tents were a motley of colors and fabrics, and the whole effect was one of a bazaar in India, as the colorfully garbed and dark skinned gypsies wove their way around their home, speaking the soft, guttural Romany, communicating with large dark eyes. Irea and Mirage, still clinging hands and waving cheerfully at a few random friends, headed straight for the stage, but did not climb up upon it. Instead they squeezed around the back of it and found, as they expected to, Clopin Trouillefou - Gypsy King, and their own dearest friend. Clopin was sitting with his legs lazily up against the stone wall, his large blue hat with it's straggly yellow feather pushed up high on his forehead, his expression bored and indolent, as he fiddled idly with his favourite puppet - one naturally in his own image. Right then Puppet had grasped hold of the King's nose and Clopin was half heartedly begging him to let go when he heard a titter, and turned, with furrowed brow and Puppet still hanging off his large nose, to face his two lady friends. "Oh ho, and what's so amusing then?" he questioned darkly, and dropped Puppet in his lap with a bored sigh. Irea clambered over Clopin's lanky form to squeeze down beside him whilst Mirage filled the space on the other side. They squeezed their friend affectionately and pinched his cheeks while he batted at their hands disinterestedly and humphed as though he resented this intrusion on his boredom. He didn't, of course, as he lazily stretched his arms up and around the two girls. In fact he was quite pleased by their arrival as he'd just been getting ready to create a girlfriend for Puppet, so bored he was and so unwilling to go into the general Romany population and find out if his services were required anywhere. He had even imagined how the girlfriend would look - modelled after his current favourite, a street performer who didn't live in the Court, but who had lovely dancer's legs and long red hair and a very nice, sly smile, especially when Clopin came to visit her at night. She wore a mask on the streets, like the Italian Harlequin, and she smelt very good. Clopin grinned to himself as he thought of her, ignoring the chatter his two friends kept up on either side of him. A sharp finger jabbing his ribcage started him out of his reverie and he glared at Mirage who merely waggled her eyebrows at him and grinned cockily. Irea tickled his stomach and he sighed and blew on her face as she squealed and ducked away. Mirage and Clopin had been best friends since they were very small children, and the two were extremely close. A lifeline for each other, Mirage helped Clopin deal with the reluctant responsibility of leading the Court, as Clopin was a comfort to Mirage when she reflected on past hurts. Although Irea was the third and a recent edition to the group, she was in no way excluded, because the bond that had sprung between her and Mirage had been immediate. Clopin was very fond of Irea, and loved her wicked humor and pretty black eyes, and protected her as fiercely he did Mirage. But the normally astute Gypsy King did not see past the tip of his long nose in this instance, for Irea was quite passionately in love with him. But young, charming and very good looking, Clopin was often times far too busy with some of the more direct young ladies of the Court to notice her feelings. Clopin,like Mirage, was a full blooded gypsy. Tall, skinny and very athletic, he was a talented acrobat, storyteller and comedian. His bronzed skin gleamed with a healthy glow, despite overindulgence in drink, and his face was clean cut and well defined, with large expressive features that mixed together for a very pleasing effect. Clopin, being very aware of his considerable talents, both as a performer and with women, was vain and kept himself cleaner than alot of the gypsy men did. His long black hair, though scruffy, was clean and shining, and his goatee was kept neatly trimmed. Despite that, his clothes were still ragged and he was young enough to still enjoy a bit of rough and tumble on the dusty streets. Clopin had a light heart, always ready for hedonistic pursuit, though concern for his friends and people was never far from his feelings. He worked hard to make sure everyone in the Court stayed safe, and whilst he never stopped the romany from getting into trouble, he would always help them get out of it if he could. But apart from that, he did little in the way of leadership, preferring to be left to his own ends and pursuits. Clopin told stories in his puppet cart on the streets above, his golden singing voice ringing out across the streets of Paris and drawing audience from far and wide. He did not like the Parisians, and made no pretence of doing so, indeed using any oppurtunity he could to show them up for fools. Mindful of his position as a man, he encouraged his two dearest lady friends to do likewise, but while they were wary of the parisians, Mirage and Irea had not so much dislike for them. Although Clopin merrily caused trouble on the streets above, he would often get anxious if Mirage and Irea did, and hustle them quickly out of the line of fire. In defence of his friends, Clopin was fearless, and although he truly knew the younger girls could well take care of themself, his machismo inclinations dictated he be just slightly over-protective, an attitude the girls bemoaned. But on the whole, the three had a good life in the Court. They were warm, generally fed, and they had each other for company and comfort. They were happy in the life destiny had chosen for them. It was this life that Columbine gracefully leaped in upon. 

Clopin had finally allowed himself to be persuaded to be pulled out from behind the stage, and lazily let his strong body be yanked by either arm by either girl. Laughing, they teased his sluggishness, and grinning good-naturedly he whacked their backsides and wrapped long arms around them as they made their way to the front of the stage and prepared to sit in front of the large blazing fire to eat and share stories of the day. "And what did we do today, my lovely ladies?" Clopin asked the girls as he filled a tankard with beer and drank thirstily. Mirage grimaced at Irea. "Darling Irs got jealous because people ignored her parlour tricks to listen to my playing!!" Irea crossed her eyes at Mirage "You were playing in my usual spot! It had nothing to do with jealousy!" The accusations were entirely good-natured, no true grudge was ever borne between the two, but Clopin well knew the sparring could continue for hours. Holding up long, elegant hands he interupted. "Hold on, hold on! Did you ever consider perhaps working together? Mirage's music *accompanying* Iera's tricks?" The two girls stared at him incredulously "NO!" They both cried simultaneously, then laughed at each other. Clopin shrugged. "And I'm accused of conceit" he muttered. "Go get me some food, Mirage." Mirage kicked him gently. "Get it yourself you lazy ass. I'm not one your little bed friends who walk around scraping the grounds with their noses behind you!" Clopin wriggled restlessly and sighed. "Please get me a plate of food, darling sweet Mirage, my oldest dearest friend?" Mirage snorted and turned away. "You must be joking" Clopin pouted. "Jack-ass" he mumbled, then gasped as Mirage whacked him in the stomach. Irea snickered and then stood up. "I'm hungry. I'll get some for you Clopin." Clopin's smile instantly became very wide and very flattering. "Thankyou, beautiful Irea. It's truly a pleasure to have a real lady around abouts." Mirage only smiled to herself. She knew very well why the normally stand-offish Irea was willing to play wife to Clopin and let her girl-friend know with a knowing wink.Irea ignored her and picked up a large bowl and ladle, wandering over to the huge cooking pots the older women of the Court patiently stirred for their men of an evening. "What do you want, Clopin?" she called loudly in the direction of her friends. "There's chicken and vegetables, or stew, or - " A flash of blue and a thump distracted her attention, and the accompanying cries from the gypsies around her made her whirl around and gasp with amazement at the newcomer. Every man, woman and child within view had their mouth gaping open, and their eyes bulging. Not so much at the newcomer's unexpected entrance, but more at her dress. Or *lack* thereof. "And they thought I wore little!" Irea's stunned mind told her. The newcomer was about Irea's height, very slender, and very muscled, something that was just as odd as her dress. Her exsquisite face was hard and expressionless, and her silky dark brown hair swung down past her shoulder blades. The woman wore some kind of blue bodice, and a very short gauzy blue skirt, that was *see through*. Her stockings were not held up by suspenders, and were striped in two shades of blue, and a vivid purple. Matching armbands stretched from her wrist to her elbow. The woman's hair was held back by some kind of blue scarf, and her face was painted with a blue diamond over one eye, and her lips were painted blue. As the Romany continued to stare in a shocked silence, she made a bow towards Clopin, who gazed at her with a strange expression of admiration and amazement, an edge of humor in her dark brown eyes and her velvety voice. "Clopin Trouillefou, Gyspy King, I may presume?" Clopin slowly recovered, stretching out his long legs, and grinning warily. "You certainly may, that is my name." The woman smiled to herself and straightened up. "My name is Columbine Mountebank, and I've come to ask your assistance." Clopin cocked an eyebrow, and continued to watch her warily. "Is that so? Any particular reason I should listen to you, an intruder who bursts in unannounced?" Columbine looked at him steadily."Have I tried to assault you? No. Have I accosted any of your people? No. I might have announced my arrival, but I'm familiar with your methods, Gypsy King. I would of been trussed up on your gallows before having a chance to breathe this rank air." Clopin smiled a little wider, and a little more dangerously. The woman certainly had made no attempt of an attack, but Clopin did not trust anyone he didn't know or didn't recognise. Although the woman's skin was olive, and her eyes were almond shaped, she did not look to be of romany blood. Besides, she called the air of Clopin's Kingdom rank. He didn't much care for that. Behind Columbine, gypsy men, recovering from their inital shock, were stealthily creeping up towards her. Clopin looked at them quickly then returned his gaze to the woman. As beautiful as she was, Clopin decided there was no reason to hear her out, at least not while her arms and legs were free like that. Clopin shrugged and grinned. "Get her!" he said cheerfully to the men. Columbine moved so fast none of the romany were even aware of what she was doing until she had done it. The gypsy men pounced, but with a few disciplined moves, she kicked,punched and floored all five of them within a few seconds. With a hint of barely controlled rage she turned again to Clopin who was sitting up straight now and staring at Columbine dazedly. "That was beneath you, Trouillefou." she snapped. "Like yourself, I am an outcast in this world, and have come here to ask you for assistance. I wish no harm upon you or your people. But I will warn you right now. Any of your men attack me again and I will not be so gentle." Clopin stared with raised eyebrows at his groaning, moaning men who lay stiffly on the floor, clutching their sore parts. He raised his eyes to Columbine again. The woman was one tough piece of flesh. No reason to trust her. But her face was direct, and her eyes burned into him with openess. She gave an impression of honesty and honor. He looked around at his startled people who continued to gape at this strange, strong woman, with fear and uncertainty. A spy? No. There was no way that Frollo would employ such a woman, and no way a spy would burst in like this. There was noone else who had a reason to send a spy amongst them. Clopin decided to take a chance. He rose gallantly to his feet and bowed to the woman, hat in his hands. "I beg your pardon,mademoiselle, but we romany must be wary at all times of attacks from our enemies. Being familiar with my methods, as you claim, I'm sure you're aware of that also." She continued to gaze at him. "Yes, I am." He smiled. "I assure you now, noone here will attempt to harm you again. I am quite willing to listen to your dilemma, and help you if it is within my power" And so she should know he was not lying, he looked her in the eyes and returned her steady gaze. The woman relaxed and smiled, her pretty bow lips curving slightly. "I'm glad to hear it, Trouillefou. And you will please call me Columbine." He gestured for her to take a seat on one of the long benches that stretched around the fireplace. Mirage was nudging him furiously, and Irea gazed with a small frown furrowing her brow, but Clopin ignored both of them,as did the woman. The other gypsy, who had faith in their leader, slowly began to return to their former activity, though they still glanced at her uncertainly from time to time. "And you must call me Clopin." he said graciously. "May I get you a drink? We are just having supper here." She shook her head. "I do not need sustenance right now. I'm more concerned about finding my friend. Tell me, what is the political situation in this city right now?" 

© Harley Quinn, 1999 (harley_quinn@cheerful.com) May not be reproduced without permission. 


	4. Default Chapter Title

Mort Rit En Dernier - Chapter Four 

Joker was thrilled to pieces as he, Frollo, and the Minister's delicious looking piece of flesh left the dungeons to go back up into the Palace. *Everything* was going just as he wanted it to go, and so far the Minister suspected nothing! If things continued as they were, Joker was bound to have the best time of his life! He rubbed his hands together and chuckled gleefully, as his two haughty companions looked askance at him from the corners of their eyes and then exchanged small looks. They had just reached the bottom of the marble staircarse, when there was a scraping noise behind them followed quickly by an enormous CRASH and splintering of porcelain. The Minister and the Vicomtesse whirled around in alarm. Joker, who guessed the villain behind the crash, sighed and his shoulders sagged forward resignedly. His gleeful smile pulled itself down into a furious frown and he slowly turned around to join his new partners in crime as they stared dismayedly down at a shattered vase. "That was a priceless gift from the King!" The Minister said in a distraught tone, before straightening his head and glaring into the shadows. "Who is responsible for this?" Joker sighed again. "Come on out Harls." She stepped forward sheepishly, looking ashamedly out from big blue eyes, a little crooked smile on her face. The Vicomtesse's first thoughts were that the girl's deathly pallor was natural, like the Joker's, but a closer look through her sharp black eyes, revealed it was greasepaint. As the young female appeared into the light, both the Minister and the Vicomtesse gaped in amazement at her dress. Her body was entirely covered, no flesh except her face on show, but the red and black jester costume she wore was absolutely skin tight, and emphasied every bump and curve she had on her. In curiosity, Ginevra shot a sidewards glance at Frollo, to see how he would react to such atrocity. Frollo was glaring at the girl, nostrils flaring, his face turning a dull brick red as he faced the outrageous sight. His eyes were contemptuous as the girl seemed to almost brazenly throw back her shoulders, as though to invite one to look at her. He was unfooled by the timid look on her face, he saw this girl immediately for what she was, a temptress and a sinner. And this - Joker - clearly knew her. He rounded on the tall thin man angrily. "What is the meaning of this? Why we were not made aware of this - girl's - prescence earlier? Do you seek to keep something from me? What do you mean by allowing her to dress like that and parade in front of mortal men?" Joker listened to the onslaught disinterestedly, his eyes not even seeing the Minister. The toothy grin was fixed on his face with a stillness that chilled Harley's heart. She knew very well what that fixed smile, in combination with the farway look in his eyes, meant, and she cowered. The Vicomtesse was irritated by the sight of that tremble and snapped at Harley. "Come out into the light more, girl! Do not hide in the shadows!! Explain yourself to the Minister immediately." Harley looked at her fearfully, and with uncertainty. She was reluctant to do anything Joker himself had not instructed her to do in this situation, but Joker just kept staring ahead, with that glowering smile, as the Minister and the Vicomtesse glared at Harley with folded arms and baleful eyes. The Vicomtesse narrowed her beautiful eyes at Harley when the girl refused to respond. "I said step into the light, girl" she said heavily and sharply. Harley knew that tone of voice, and took a tiny step forward, her hands crossed protectively over her chest. All of a sudden, Joker snapped out of his reverie and laughed brittily, striding forward and whipping one arm around Harley's small shoulder. "Now now, kids, lets not get all up into arms!" he said jovially "This here, why this is my own little Harley Quinn, my very special lady, and assistant in all my capers and adventures. Wave hello Harley!!!" Harley withdrew one hand from her bosom and waved it obediently. The Vicomtesse and the Minister continued to glare. Joker chuckled again. "Now don't be so suspicious, Frolly-boy! I'm here to help ya out remember???? No, Harley's been lurking in the shadows, because as she's just proven, she can be something of an...embarrassment" He thrust his lean face into Harleys. "Right, Harley girl?" Harley gulped. "Uh-huh" she said softly. The Vicomtesse was growing increasingly agitated. The girl reminded her of nothing more than the rest of Claude's lady friends. It was subservience she couldn't bear to see, it made her nauseous in fact. She would of been delighted in having every one of the silly fools whipped, if only to knock some sense into them. Provided noone became aware of the nature of her relationship with Claude, Ginevra could come and go as she pleased, say what she felt to the Minister, and assist him in his plans. She stared coldly at Harley who looked out at her helplessly. Joker moved away from Harley to place a friendly hand on the stone still Minister, who stood looking directly ahead, immoveable, with narrowed eyes. "Claudie, my man, I'm real sorry about that pretty spitoon of yours there. Unfortunately, Harley's just a woman, and she simply doesn't have the spine flower to deal with things like this." Harley was stung, more so than usual. "Hey!" she said in a weak protest. Joker silenced her with a glare. "Harley, Harley, Harely" he tsked, walking over to her again, with his hands behind in his back in an attitude of resignation. "You've shamed me, cupcake. You know what that means?" Harley did. "Uh-huh" she said softly, tears starting in her eyes. Joker stopped to her side, leering down at her. With a shake of his head he gestured to the massive double door that were the main entrance to the Palace. "Come on then." Meekly, Harley began to walk forward, then stopped. "Aw, Puddin' PLEASE, it was an accident, I'll pay for the vase, really!" Joker sighed, then grasped her nose with one hand, pulling her towards the door. The Minister and the Vicomtesse drew aside and watched the proceedings with no small interest. Joker wrenched the large doors open, the same doors that he'd kicked open a little under an hour ago, positioned Harley in front of them then walked around behind her. Harley was whimpering softly, but otherwise not protesting. Joker drew back one long leg and brought it savagely forward, connecting viciously with Harley's back and sending her flying head first out the door. Harley landed heavily on the hard cobblestones of the street, and lay there, stunned. A few seconds later her duffel bag, minus a few things, came flying out to land on her head. In total blackness now, Harley lay miserably with her cheek in the dirt as she heard the Palace's doors slam shut. Inside,Joker turned to the once again open jawed Vicomtesse and Minister, and rubbed his hands together happily. "Well that was fun. Let's get back to business, shall we?" 

** 

Outside, Harley miserably dragged herself to her feet, wiping gravel from her face, and sniffling piteously to herself. Why did this ALWAYS have to happen? It was so unfair!! It was a complete and total accident!!!!! And now here she was, in this crazy whacky world,all on her own, and Mistah J didn't even CARE! He didn't even WORRY!!! The tears ran down Harley's cheeks faster, and she wiped them away crossly. Well, she would show him!! She would!!!! She'd go and do something TOTALLY amazing to this stupid place, and then Mistah J would BEG her to come back!! He'd plead with her! "Harley Machine, come back to me!" he'd say "I need you, you glorious thing!" Yeah! And maybe she WOULDN'T go back! Maybe she'd just stay here and be totally amazing by herself!!!!! Maybe she'd just stick around and knock everyone out!!! Harley grinned to herself!! Just imagine Mistah J's face THEN! Harley did. She did imagine that beautiful face full of wonderment and admiration. Abruptly her shoulders sagged forward and her tears sprung up again. She missed him already. 

** 

Columbine and Clopin sat back and observed one another carefully. After much thought and discussion, Clopin believed her story, and sincerely hoped he would not become a fool because of it. Columbine on the other hand, was mulling over the information Clopin had given her. Clearly, if Joker was going to contact anyone in Paris in 1472, it would be the Minister of Justice, Claude Frollo. The King would be nothing to him, no other nobleman was of any importance, and Frollo was the only one who did things Joker would - *like*. Should she go to the Palace of Justice straight away? Joker's reaction to her showing up would be - bad. There was no love lost between Columbine and Joker. But Columbine's chest was beginning to tighten everytime she thought of Harley. She had to be with her soon. She had to make sure that Joker wasn't doing anything to hurt her. Clopin watched the beautiful oriental woman planning her next mode of action, and sighed to himself, rubbing his eyes tiredly with gloved hands. If it didn't rain, it poured. At least he enjoyed dancing in the rain. Mirage and Irea had sat by his side as Columbine had told her tale, and their eyes had grown larger and larger. Irea was quicker to believe it than the others, coming from a Realm where such "dimension hopping" was frequent and not unusual at all. Her rapid explanations of such things helped Mirage and Clopin to follow suit in belief, and the first suspicions of this strange, determined woman had faded. But if Columbine's description of this bizaare Joker character were to be taken literally, than Paris might become a very dangerous place to be while he stayed there. Clopin was still unsure if he entirely believed the tale of a thin white god-like creature he made people die laughing, and who wished for nothing more than to destroy lives in anyway he could. This sounded to Clopin exactly like Shaitan, but Clopin was not a religious man. Was it truly possible for such evil to exist in this world? Then he remebered that Joker wasn't from this world. Irea and Mirage leaned heavily on either shoulder, and Columbine stared out at him from under lowered lids. There were too many damn women around him right now. Pushing his lady friends aside, he stood up, stretching. "I'm going for a walk." He told them. "You mean to the tavern" Mirage said wickedly. He ignored her. "You might want to find our friend Columbine here some more apporpriate clothes" he said to the girls. "She can't wander around like that, men all over Paris will be killed tripping over their tongues." Mirage and Irea giggled at that, and Columbine almost laughed. She watched Clopin still from liquid, calm eyes, and the thought struck him that the entire world was going crazy and trying to take him with it. He wandered through the catacombs quickly, trying to get his head around everything he'd been told. Time travelling? It couldn't be true, despite what Irea claimed. A man who'd killed thousands of people by himself, with no army behind him? It was impossible. If these people existed, what the hell would they want with Paris? Columbine hadn't said as much, but the way in which she referred to his, Clopin's, time, gave him the distinct impression she thought little of their mental capabilities. That annoyed him. Wasn't he Clopin Trouillefou, most popular and quick witted romany in all of Paris? Of course he was. Murderers sent to lunatic asylums instead of being hung, women who could fight better than men and were not thought of as whores in short skirts, a world where they had boxes with numbers and information on them, and books could be printed in a matter of seconds. Ridiculous. He pushed open the lid of the sarcophagi with a grunt, and leapt quickly out, pushing it back in place. He leaned back and breathed the cool night air deeply, letting his lungs fill, throwing out his arms and delighting in the wind rushing around his hot body, steamed from the humidity in the Court. Then he set off. He probably would end up in the tavern, he thought with a grimace, damn that Mirage, she knew him far too well. Clopin sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Things were either going to get very exciting, or very dangerous. Or perhaps a mixture of both. He couldn't say he exactly minded. Life had been very slow of late, and he was at the stage where he would welcome any disturbance of it, even his lovely red-haired jester coming up to him and saying "By the way Clopin, how would you feel about being a father?...." Afterwards he always thought it was funny he was thinking of his then-favourite,lost in a reverie when he was usually so careful about being aware of his surroundings, at the exact instant the small red and black creature pummelled into him at top speed,knocking them both to the ground with a mutual "oof". Blame it on the beer and the shock of that Columbine's long long legs. Only momentarily dazed, Clopin was very quickly to his feet and prepared to fight, when he realised the huddled figure on the ground was staying there. In the dim light of the Parisian streets, all he could see was a mass of red and black with a diamond pattern, and in his stunned condition, his red-haired lover leapt to mind. "Herl-" he began to say when abruptly the little creature sat up, eyes wide and terrified,her sweet round face a mess of streaked white greasepaint and black. "YIKES!" she cried. Then "Ouch!" and began rubbing her back with one hand, gazing up at Clopin through bleary eyes. Harley looked at the apparition in front of her. He was a man. He was dark skinned. He had a big hat. He had a nice voice. He wore an earring. He was gorgeous. A silly grin slowly began to spread across Harley's face as she gazed up at Clopin's delicous black eyes while he peered at her uncertainly. Seeing her clearer, Clopin began to realise who she was. She fit the description Columbine had given him exactly, though the strangely blank look in her eyes was unsettling. "Harley?" he said hesitatingly. The girl's mouth literally fell open and her eyes bugged. She stumbled to her feet, and although Columbine's amazing story was being backed up every second, he couldn't help but take the oppurtunity to admire the girl's figure. Such a shame he didn't live in the twentieth century. Ah, but then, where would the mystery be? Clopin very much liked guessing what was beneath a girls' scarves and skirts and petticoats. "Ho-ho-how did you know my name?" she stammered fearfully, looking at him through confused eyes. He reached out a hand towards her and she skittered away nervously, not taking her eyes off him once. Speaking gently, he said to her softly. "I have a friend of yours back in my home. She's been looking for you. Are you alright?" Harely's eyes were no longer weirdly blank. They were blazing with joy and love. "She? COLUMBINE?? Yay oh yay my Columbine, she's come to visit me!!" All of Harley's suspicions and fears instantly vanished and she grasped Clopin's hand eagerly, looking at him shyly from below lowered lashes.Clopin thought it was no wonder she was always finding trouble if she was so trusting. "So you gonna take me to see her, or what?" Harley said coyly, and the strange thought entered his head that the madwoman was flirting with him. He coughed and blinked at her. "By the way, ny name is Clopin" he said pointedly. Her eyes were blank for another few seconds before switching into focus again. "Ok! My name's Harley" she said cheerfully. Clopin was unsettled. Columbine's obvious infatuation with Harley had signalled her to be a lunatic also, but at least her eyes remained focused. This girl was on the edge. As he began to lead Harley back towards the graveyard, he couldn't help but feel that he was getting involved with something he shouldn't. 

** 

Joker skipped down the wide stone steps of the Palace, dancing on into the streets gleefully, a large sack flung over his shoulder, filled with the things he'd emptied Harley's duffel bag of before tossing it out to her again. Above him, The Minister watched him narrowly from a tall, leaded window, his steepled hands and thoughtful gaze signalling the first niggling of doubt. Behind the Vicomtesse paced the room, her luscious plum dress swishing around her ankles as she thought furiously to herself. She didn't like the situation at all, but she dared say nothing while Frollo thought. Finally he turned away from the window, when Joker's skinny maniacally prancing form had dissapeared around the corner and looked at Ginevra with inscrutable eyes. She returned the glare, holding her chin up straight and raising her eyebrows questioningly. After a long moment he spoke. "What do you think of all this, BellaDonna?" She sniffed quietely. "What would you prefer, Claude? That I lie to please you, as your minions would, or that I tell you bluntly what I think?" He smiled sardonically. "Bluntness has always suited you best,my dear." She narrowed her eyes in preparation of what she was about to say. "Very well. I think you're playing the fool, Claude. The man is insane, and he has a very powerful weapon in his hands. It would be foolish to trust him." Looking at her condescedingly, he glided swiftly over to his chair, and lighted gently into it. "BellaDonna, did I ever say that I trusted him?" he asked slyly. "You have to look at it from my view my dear." He gestured to her chair, and after examining it carefully and snootily dusting off a purple thread that had come loose from the lunatic's suit, she gracefully sat herself. "And what would be your view, Claude?" she asked dryly, turning her head a little at the arched eyebrow he gave her, and the strange flicker in his eye at her tone of voice. But he let it go for the moment, and continued. "The Romany are vermin. They ruin this city, corrupt it, turn the people towards their heathen ways. This man has a most effective means of ridding me of them for good. If I let him do this, as he more than likely would if I gave him my permission or not, then I rid myself of a devil that feeds itself on this city's good people. The Joker is insane. I am not responsible for his actions. One demon will be taking care of another, that is all. Besides my dear," his voice was very sly and very smug "What's to stop me from arresting him once he has taken action, hmmm?" A smile finally graced the Victomesse's white lips. "What indeed?" she quietely agreed, and the two smiled at each other. 

** 

Columbine had allowed herself to be dressed in an electric blue dress with a vivid purple bodice, but she would not remove the makeup from her face. She was vaguely annoyed by Mirage and Irea's leaping and dancing around her. They pinched one another, made terrible jokes and laughed alot. They had the same vivaciousness Harley did, but to Columbine - none of Harley's charm. Harley will probably like them, she thought, and so she made an effort to smile and be friendly towards the gypsy girls. Finally they stopped touching her, and Columbine breathed a sigh of relief, as they beckoned for her to come out and sit with them. They were friendly girls. She shouldn't be so cold. But it was something she could not always help. Columbine sighed a little, and rubbed her aching temples, thinking of Harley and how much she missed her. All of a sudden, a familiar perfume filled her nostrils and a second later a red arm and a black arm were around her neck, and a red leg and a black leg was around her waist and Harley was kising Columbine's cheek rapturously. "COLUMBINE! You came to find me!!" Harley cried joyously, and Columbine hugged Harley tight, and smiled easily now, the smile filling her face, her eyes squeezed shut in happiness. "Harley!! I've been so worried!!!!! Thank goodness I found you." Harley sat up in Columbine's arms and grinned at her friend, who smiled happily back. Irea and Mirage, their faces once again suspicious and uncertain, scooted up to Clopin. "What is happening, Clopin?" Mirage asked him softly. "Who are these women really?" Clopin shrugged. "I know as much as you, darling Mira. The new one is completely insane, but harmless otherwise." Mirage stared at him intensely. "Do you really know what you're doing, allowing them in here like this?" Clopin glared at her. "Let me handle this, Mira." "That dark one is frightening" Irea pipped up. "Her skin grew cold everytime we touched her." Clopin put an arm each around his lady friends. "Let Big Brother Clopin look after you" he said soothingly. "You trust me, no? I wont' let them hurt you." As he expected, the comment had his favourite girls acting themselves again. "We don't *need* your protection!" Mirage said contemptuously. "We're big girls now!" Irea snapped in, and Clopin gave her a wolfy smile. "I can see that, beautiful Irea" he said to her softly, and to his surprise, she blushed. Not knowing what to think of that, he looked over at Harley and Columbine who were gazing happily into each other's eyes. The seeming nature of their relationship truly unsettled him, but he decided to let it pass. "Ladies?" he said questioningly, and as though surprised they still had company, the strange guests looked over to him. Harley gave a sheepish grin as she dropped out of Columbine's arms, and Columbine's mouth was once again a straight line. "I believe I found what you were looking for, Columbine" Clopin said, placing a hand on his chest and bowing slightly. Columbine smiled at him, a little easier than she had before. "Thankyou, Clopin. I'm very grateful." "Yeah me too!" Harley giggled, as she danced in one spot. Columbine grabbed her wrist to stop her from jiggling so much. "What? What is it Columbs?" Harley asked her friend in bewilderment. "You can't jump around in that costume, Harls. Not here." Columbine said gently. Harley looked down at her bosom then up again at Clopin, Irea and Mirage, and the three could almost see her cheeks go red beneath her white greasepaint. "heh heh. Whoops." Irea and Mirage noticed the way Clopin was staring at the newcomer, more unusual looking even than Columbine was. It was a strange mix of interest and wariness, and accordingly they looked at her the same. Columbine had a definite aura of the bizaare, of danger, but Harley's aura was far more unusual, as was her costume and face. The clownish way she moved, although she was clearly in pain, added to this affect,and Irea and Mirage each slipped a hand into Clopin's and stared cautiously at Harley. She was of no small interest to the other romany, either, who generally had no idea exactly what was going on. They gazed at her and Columbine curiously, and whispered furiously to each other as they made excuses to pass by the fireplace and gawk at them, though if Clopin should notice their stares he would motion for them to go away. He invited the two women to take a seat now, as he did himself. Harley cheerfully bounced over, Columbine following reluctantly, protectively with a hand on Harley's back. She glared at the passing romany if their eyes stopped for two long on the little harlequin creature, and Clopin could see her temper was rapidly rising. "I found Harley whilst wandering along the streets this evening" Clopin explained to Columbine, before smiling benevolently at Harley. "You could say we ran into each other!" Harley giggled again."YeaH! Clopie rescued me! Didnoo Clopie?" she beamed adoringly up at the Gypsy King who seemed uncertain how to take this strange string of events. Irea's heart gave a lurch "From what?" she snapped, folding her arms. "Well," Clopin said hastily "I didn't really rescue her from anything,although the streets of Paris at night can be dangerous for a woman." Columbine's face, meanwhile, was steadily growing stonier. She recognised the look in Harley's eyes as she gazed up at Clopin, and she was beginning to feel she did not like Clopin at *all*. Grabbing Harley's face she turned it forcibly towards her. "Tell me, Harley, where is Joker?" she questioned gently but firmly. Instantly, Harley's face fell and her lower lip quivered. She sniffled and Columbine's eyes grew wide with alarm. "Oh no." she muttered softly. A second later Harley burst into very loud tears and flung herself over Columbine's lap, sobbing piteously. "HE THREW ME OUT!!!" She wailed. "Again?" Columbine asked unsympathetically. Harley sat up, nodding and sniffling. "Yah, he literally KICKED me out, Columbs! Me,his own dear girlfriend who only ever wants the best for him!!" Columbine's eyes were blazing. "He kicked you?" Harley nodded again "Uh-huh. In my back! Look!!!" She stood up and displayed her back to her friend, completely unaware Columbine could see nothing through the fabric of her costume. "I landed in the dirt! Then I started running all over the place, but I got lost and I didn't know where I was and then WHAMO! I run into Clopin here, and he rescues me and brings me to you!" She grinned blissfully at Clopin again who smiled at her indulgently, and then seated herself with a plonk beside him. Columbine was fuming. "That bastard" she said between gritted teeth, clenching her fists, trying desperately to control herself. Harley peered anxiously at her. "Hey, Columbs, you're not angry bout something are ya?" With a supreme force of will, Columbine got hold of herself, and let her anger out in a long hiss.She smiled at Harley and patted her knee. "Nope, sweetie. I'm not mad about anything at all! But if we're going to get you back to Joker, we'll have to get you prepped for life in the fifteenth century! This" with a sweeping hand she indicated the two gypsy girls "Is Mirage and Irea. They're old friends of Clopin, and Clopin's agreed to help us out while we're here in Paris." "Aw" Harley said and grinned again at Clopin. Columbine ignored it. "But if we're going to work here, we have to look like we belong here. Ladies, have you anything Harley could wear?" Mirage and Irea looked at each other for a long second before coming to a silent agreement. Mirage stood up, finally smiling and nodding. Irea followed suit. "We should have something" Mirage said in a more or less friendly way. "Come on - Harley is it? Come on, Harley, let's get you looking normal again" Harley grinned in a benevolently confused fashion. "But I do look normal!" she said cheerfully as Columbine and Mirage pushed her towards the tents, Irea walking reluctantly behind. Clopin followed them with his eyes thoughtfully. Despite their obvious lack of sanity, Harley Quinn and Columbine had good hearts, that much he could feel from them. But having them here was dangerous, that he felt also. Was alleivation of boredom worth this? Should he put the entire court at risk because he wanted an adventure? He watched Harley's round backside as the four girls retreated to Mirage's tent, and rubbed his nose musingly.She was weird, but she was also very pretty, lively, and obviously had a thing for him. It might be nice to get to know her better. Once Mirage had realised he had accepted her, she had responded in kind, but Irea's attitude confused him. He could think of no reason why his little friend should be so clearly resentful of Harley's prescence. But Irea had grown up in an immortal realm. Perhaps her senses were sharpened. He would have to keep a very close eye on things from now on. 

** 

Outside in the rapidly lightening darkness, Joker leapt down from the thatched roof he had just been on, whistling softly to himself. He couldn't *believe* Frollo had fallen for it! No wonder he gets thrown over a few years from now, he thought jovially to himself. If I'm going to outshine someone's career, like I'm going to focus on one race!Joker scoffed silently. The French....Gypsies...they were all the same thing when they died laughing. And the laughter was all the same sweet music to his ears. Joker wandered a few blocks further, still whistling, jauntily clacking his cuban heels on the cobblestones,then hoisted himself silently up onto another roof. Once there, he snaked up to the chimney, and opened his large hessian sack. Inside there were at least twenty gas bombs left, each filled with Joker's patented laughing gas. Each, upon exploding, would spread their contents in a two mile radius. Joker chuckled to himself as he wedged one of the small bombs in next to the chimney, then leapt carefully down from the rood. Musn't get too extravagant, He reminded himself. We still have the Court of Miracles to do. Joker did a little tap dance on the street as the sun slowly began to rise in the distance, bathing the cobblsetones in a soft yellow glow. Just twenty four hours to go. 

© Harley Quinn 1999 (harley_quinn@cheerful.com) May not be reproduced without permission. 


	5. Default Chapter Title

Mort Rit En Dernier - Chapter Five 

Clopin was tired by his unusual and very long night. Yawning and lazily scratching his sides, he filled a tankard with beer and took a long gulp, rolling it around in his mouth before swallowing gratefully. "Ahh" he sighed, and leaned against the stone wall of the Court. As strange as everything was,he was already beginning to accept Columbine and Harley Quinn into his world. They stuck out like sorethumbs, true, and he wasn't sure if they were the type of people he could ever consider to be friends, but he no longer had to shake his head every time he saw Columbine's calm, determined gaze, or Harley's frenzied, gleeful smile. He really needed some sleep. Psychopaths from the future or not, they didn't need to interfere in Clopin's sleeping time. Maybe he could sneak off to his tent and steal a few hours nap - that is if Mirage hadn't put something cold and wet between his bed covers again. Just as he mustered the energy to lift himself off the wall and stumble over to his tent, two of his street scouts, Geraud and Guilliame, brothers, old and street smart, came rushing up to him. Their faces were white beneath their tans, their eyes wide and frantic. Frowning,Clopin turned to them questioningly, thoughts of his strange guests immediately entering his mind, as the thickly black bearded gypsy men began hurridedly talking to their leader. "We saw him as we were preparing to come under for the day, Clopin!" "As pale as death itself!! Grinning from ear to ear!!!" "We bathed our faces before coming under, do not fear!! He looked as with the Evil Eye! But we washed his poison away from us!!" Clopin raised his hands, grimacing in irritation as they continued to speak over each other! "What, what what!" he cried annoyed "What is this superstition I am hearing, from two such men as yourselves, over thirty and many families behind you?" The two men stopped for breath, and then Guilliame spoke again. "He was before us on the streets, walking out of the sun itself, Clopin! We knew he is not from our world, his clothes were strange and his hair unnatural!! His face was that of a skull, the visage of Death, and over his shoulder he carried the sack,filled with the Souls he has collected throughout the night!" Clopin glared at the superstitious babble he thought belonged in the women's tents and then snapped and Guilliame. "So he walked out of the sun, but has been collecting souls all night, Guilliame? Make some sense, man!" Guilliame stuttered, unsure, only knowing what he had seen. Geraud spoke up. "My brother speaks the truth Clopin! I saw it too! It was a Devil of some kind. You didn't see his eyes!!!" Clopin again leaned against the wall, and stroked his brilliant black goatee thoughtfully. "Did this Devil have green hair?" He asked finally. The two men's eyes widened at their King, and they nodded unable to speak. Clopin moved forward quickly. "Very well. Tell everyone to have their eyes and ears open on the streets today. Thankyou, you've done well." The two brothers looked at each and shrugged. Clopin could be a mystifying man at times. 

In Mirage's tent, the girls were having troubles of their own. "You can't wear red!" Mirage told Harley for the fifth time. Harley sat with legs crossed and arms folded, naked except for a thin cotton chemise, stubbornly on the floor. "I never wear any other color except red!" she said crossly. Irea glowered at Harley. "NO good gypsy girl wears red before being married!!" She informed Harley snootily. Harley stuck her nose in the air. "I'm not a gypsy! And who said anything about *me* being good? I'm bad to the bone! Tell them Columbine!!" Columbine looked vacantly over to where Harley sat. "Whatever you think, sweetie" she said lovingly, then turned back to contemplating her nails. Mirage sighed and showed the green, patched dress to Harley again. "Look, if you wear red, everyone will think you're not a virgin!" Harley looked up at Mirage in surprise. "But I'm not a virgin!" Mirage sighed. "Yes but you don't want people to *think* that!" Harley's brow furrowed. For a minute it almost looked as though she would give in. "NO!" She finally yelled. "NO NO NO NO!!" Startled, Mirage dropped the dress on the floor, and backed up warily. "Goodness! Talk about unstable!" she muttered to herself. "Fine, fine, wear what you want!" Harley gleefully pounced on the red dress she'd had her eye on from the beginning, and Columbine happily got up to help her into it. Harley ostentatiously struggled to get into a black bodice, but got tangled up with the laces. Sighing, Columbine helped her get her arms in the right way, and then laced it up at the back. Harley's blonde hair was pulled out of it's pigtails and vigorously brushed out, and tied back. "Oy, I feel weird!" Harley moaned. Mirage smiled. "You look distinctly more normal," she told Harley "no matter the red." Mirage and Irea stood back to look Harley over critically. Despite the strange look in her eye, Harley was a pretty girl, with round, white cheeks, and forget-me-not blue eyes. Her smile was so ready and eager, that even Irea couldn't help responding to it a little, her liquidy black eyes crinkling a little at the corners. Finally Mirage shrugged. "You won't fool anyone with that hair or that skin, but you'll do. I suppose." "We could always die her skin with henna, like the gadje say we do to the babies we steal" Irea put in wickedly. Mirage smothered a laugh and nudged her, as Harley, unaware of what they were saying, spun in circles, admiring the way her skirts billowed. The smiles fell from their faces when Columbine slowly raised her eyes to theirs, and stared at them, without moving a single other muscle. Clopin had to be crazy to let these people here, in their home. Nothing made sense anymore. Irea and Mirage were friendly girls. They were accepting. They liked new friends. But befriending random persecuted street vagabonds was a distinctly different story to two costumed lunatics from the future. If they really were from the future. The two gypsy stood side by side, very similar but completely different with their colorful clothes and beautiful hair. Both had their arms folded defensively across their chests, and both made their expressions unreadable. Mirage chanced a look sidewards at Columbine who watched Harley adoringly. "Do ya think Mistah J would like it?" Harley asked Columbine beseechingly. Columbine rolled her eyes firecely. "If he stopped obsessing over himself long enough to look, Harls,yeah I think he'd like it." Harley looked sadly down at her dress, fiddling with one of it's patches, thinking of the Joker. Why did it always have to happen this way? But then she thought of the handsome Gypsy man who'd rescued her from the terrible clutches of night shadows. He was sweet. He was cute too. He didn't wear a wedding ring. "Is Clopin really the King?" Harley questioned eagerly. Well this was subject the romani girls enjoyed. Mirage grinned at her. "He's the King of the Gypsies, if that counts for anything" she informed Harley. "He is not rich, except in talent. He has no fine clothes but his performer's garb. He has no subjects but for his friends. And he has no amazing court spectaculars to show, except for being able to drink more beer in one night than the entire French Army!!" Irea laughed along with Mirage, as they gleefully thought of the friend they adored so much. Irea with a little pang in her chest. When would she get the courage to show Clopin how she felt? When she was sure he could be faithful to her, was the thought that followed grimly. Harley looked down at her dress again and sighed. "He sounds super swell." Mirage and Irea didn't respond. They didn't understand what she meant. Harley began spinning again, singing softly under her breath. From where she sat, Columbine sat up a little. She recognised that singing. Harley was going to begin mooning again. "I know a fella" Harley said dreamily. "A fella who puts the rest to shame! He's mighty tall and he's mighty beautiful, and he's smarter than all the smart guys put together. He's got beautiful white skin and delicious green hair and purple eyes so thick you could get stuck in them and not even care!" Irea watched her carefully. Feeling about Clopin as she did, she'd immediately picked up on Harley's interest in him. Knowing Clopin's willingness to get involved with any woman eager enough, she'd immediately felt resentful of Harley but she could see now the girl was far too in love with this other man - this Joker who was apparantly an enormous threat to them all - to think about Clopin too much. Alright, so she was insane, but alot of the inhabitants in the Realm of Faerie were insane by mortal standards. Harley's smile was genuine, leery though it was. Perhaps she wasn't so bad after all. She glanced at Mirage and could see, by the way she'd tilted her head forward, and letting her hair fall in her eyes, that her friend was thinking the same thing. Damn the soft hearts of the romani women! Why was it the romany men who had the hearts of stone? Columbine spoke up again. "Indeed, a "fella" who kicked you out, Harls. And may I remind you that it was *literal*?" Harley stopped spinning again, and her face took on a curiously intense expression. "He *did* kick me out" and there were the first traces of anger in her voice "I tried so darn hard! I DID! Oh gawd, why aren't I ever good enough for him?" Columbine sat up, eyes blazing. "It's got nothing to do with YOU, Harley!" She cried, and stormed out of the tent in a passion. Irea and Mirage exchanged uncomfortable looks. Alright they were the best of friends - but these girls were very - intense. Still, Harley's miserable pouting lips sparked some sympathy in them. "A man cannot live without his woman" Mirage said consolingly. "He will be back for you, I'm certain." Irea looked at Harley's ample bosom, her sweet round cheeks, and seductively trusting blue eyes and thought the sooner the better. Harley snorted. "He ain't gonna be back for little ole me! You don't know my Puddin! He aint' some dime-a-dozen, sub average, short, smelly old nothing nobody! He's - " "The Joker" Clopin's golden voice finished for her. The three women, startled,looked towards the tent flap, where the Gypsy King filled the narrow space. He entered, unsmiling for a change, bending his tall head to do so. Mirage grinned and pinched his backside, and he dropped his hat over her head, where it fell down past her nose. He was not in the mood for games, and this was the quickest way to stop her from beginning any. Clopin moved swiftly over to where Harley sat, noticing neither Irea's frown nor Harley's grinned. He sat and looked intensely at the girl. He'd been more than a little shocked at the sight of the red dress, unacceptable where her costume might of been, but the sight of Harley's cherubic face, free of makeup and beaming out in him a much less eerie fashion, put a smile on his face, and he did not feel quite so anxious for information as he had when he first entered. "Harley" he addressed his strange guest. "The sun has risen over Paris. A few romany scouts who check the city at night reported to me at first light of a strange white man they saw parading the streets. The man was carrying a sack, and the smiling. The sight of this man had these two old men, who've seen riots, executions and babbies born, running back here with their tails between their legs." "That'd be puddin!" Harley chirped. Clopin looked at her sharply, before leaning forward. "Harley, if you know what your lover has planned for this city, I suggest you tell me immediately. In fact, I demand it." Harley sat back and pouted. As cute as this fella was, she didn't much like him demanding for her to betray her one true love. She folded her arms and looked stubbornly at Clopin. "No!" she said petulantly. He looked at her incredulously for a moment. Apart from Mirage and Irea, he was very unused to women refusing him anything. Behind him his two lady friends watched interestedly. He turned his head to them and said sharply "Leave us." Mirage's eyes widened. "Excuse me, Clopin dearest??" Clopin stood up, walked over to Mirage, picked her hands up in his and said dangerously "Leave the tent, Mira." Mirage gazed up into her oldest friend's eyes. She recognised the look there. Clopin had been refused something he particularly had not wanted to be refused, and he was growing angry. As much as she loved him, Clopin was a man, and he wanted his own way always. Mirage knew when to play, and when to back off. She shrugged crossly. "Alright, but you're a bully." He ignored her and turned back to Harley. Mirage grasped Irea's hand who was even more reluctant to leave than she was, and wrested her out of the tent. "You can't keep things from us, Clopin!" Irea shouted back to the tent. Mirage nudged her and signalled for silence. They crept around a nearby tent and looked back at the one they'd just left. Sure enough, Clopin's head peeked out of the flap a moment later, looking for them, before retreating back in. The tent moved then, and they guessed he was kicking at the walls, in case they should be crouched out there. Once this activity ceased, they left their hiding spot and crouched close to the tent flap, listening to what took place within. 

Inside the tent, Clopin stood over Harley who looked up at him unpreturbed. "You and your friends are a stranger to my land" Clopin said, quietely serious. "Your Columbine burst in on us, unannounced. Normally I hang people for that.You have been through the catacombs to our underground world. Normally I hang people for that. We gypsy have no reason and no need to trust any outsider. I have to conisder the safety of my people. Now you will tell me what this Joker has planned, or you will feel the repercussions." Harley sniffled. Clopin's bullying was only making her feel more stubborn. She mimed zipping her lip, and shook her head vigorously. Clopin's anger burst through his veins like a flame. No wonder her lover hit her!!!! And here she was, playing with the lives of every gypsy in Paris!! Grasping her savagely by the arms, Clopin prepared for some physical persuasion when he saw the look on her face. It was one of dread, but one of resignation also. She was used to this kind of treatment. She wouldn't talk if he beat her up, and slapping her face was as far as Clopin could go in anger with a woman. Siging, he let go her arms, and instead rubbed them soothingly. She peeked at him from under her lashes, hardly believeing. Clopin smiled charmingly at her and ran a hand through her soft hair. "Cherie" he said softly "I don't want you to betray your lover. I admire the loyalty you have for him. But I appeal to your honor. You will remember I rescued you last night." He was still uncertain what he rescued her from, but the memories of night shadows were still fresh in Harley's mind.She sighed and looked up into Clopin's handsome brown face. "Ok, back where we come from, Mistah J was pretty cross because the way he saw it, other folks throught history were better known than he was" He couldn't believe it had turned out to be so easy. The Gypsy King listened to Harley with furrowed forehead. Harley's nasal accent, in combination with her mordern jargon, was difficult to understand. "So he decided, first he was gonna come back here to Paris and offer Frollo a way to bump off all the gypsies!" He looked at her. "Er, I mean kill all the gypsies." At this Clopin sat up with a start and eyes blazing. Outside the tent where they were listening, Irea gasped and grabbed Mirage's hand who stared intensely at at the tent with lightly clenched teeth. "Well, but Mistah J didn't just wanna kill gypsies, cuz he wants to get the better of this Frollo dude ok? So what he's planning to do is kill EVERYONE in Paris." Clopin sat back. This was ridiculous. "You'd better not be joking with me, girl" he said warningly. Harley looked at him indignantly. "No I'm telling you, that's what he wants to do! He's got this special gas ok, what it does if you spray it on someone, it makes you laugh until you die! And he's got like about a hundred tiny little gas bombs, and he's planting them all around the city! I'm serious! This is what he's going to do!!!!! That way, years later back in our time, people will open their history books to find out hundreds of people died with grins on their faces because of Mistah J, that is, the Joker!" Clopin stood up and strode over to one corner of the tent, one hand rubbing his eyes. From their crouched positions outside Mirage and Irea looked at each other with gaping mouths and uncertain eyes. They could barely believe what Harley had just said either. In fact, everything that had happened since last night seemed like some kind of warped dream. Two madwomen had shown up, claiming to be from the future, and now they claimed that a friend of theirs planned to wipe out Paris? No, it was ridiculous. "Do you really expect us to believe that?" Clopin said finally to Harley. Again Harley was indignant. "Hell, yah! It's true! To be honest, I thought it was kinda harsh myself. Not something I would do ya know?" Mirage shook her head, staring down at her purple skirts. "One man cannot wipe out an entire city" she whispered softly to Irea. "It's impossible" Behind them, Columbine spoke up in a dangerously soft voice. "You haven't seen Joker's Laughing Gas in action. It kills people in seconds. You don't know the Joker like I do. He will do this if he can." Irea and Mirage whirled around in terror. When they saw Columbine they stopped, and just stared at her, their eyes dull. What was happening here? Back inside the tent Clopin sighed from where he stood with his back to Harley. "How does he release the gas from these 'bombs'?" "By a remote control" Harley piped up. "What it is, it's this whacky little device that has a timer on it. Mistah J can chose whatever time he wants the bombs to explode, then he presses a button on the control, and they release the gas. I know he's planning to do it tomorrow morning." Mirage stood up. Her heart was pounding hard in her chest, and she felt nauseous. For one of the very few times in her life, Mirage could find nothing to joke about. She pushed the tent flap open and strode bodly inside, heedless of Clopin's cry of anger "We have to stop him." she said hoarsely. Still seated, Irea's eyes were wet, and she had folded her arms and was gazing dazedly down at her striped skirts. It was too much to take in. She'd never encountered anything like this, not even in the Realm of Faerie. Clopin finally stopped glaring. His face was still, and his eyes were cloaked. "Is he planning to attack the romany?" he asked Harley. Mirage realised what he was thinking and leapt forward. "Clopin, no! I know you don't like the parisians, but you can't just let them all die!" Clopin almost didn't answer, but when he saw the expression on his best friend's face he changed his mind. "Mira, you've heard for yourself, first from Columbine and now from Harley, what this man is capable of. How do you expect us to fight him if our people don't benefit in anyway? We'll lose our lives for people who hate and fear us" From where she sat outside the tent, Irea voice wandered in sullenly. "I can't believe you would really consider something like that Clopin." He looked away from them, swallowed and then looked up at Harley again. "Well?" he said. Harley nodded slowly, her eyes wide. "Oh yeah. He wants to get EVERYONE!" Clopin let out a long breath. "Then we have to do something." Mirage and Irea nodded in slow agreement. But what? And why them? What the hell was happening here anyway? Clopin looked at Mirage hardly. "You're staying here." She narrowed eyes at him and prepared for a fight. "You're joking." she said, scoffing. Clopin stared deadpan at her. "Be careful, Clopin, if the wind changes, you'll stay like that,and what lady will want you then?" she quipped. Clopin leapt forward, and seizing her by the wrist, pushed her outside the tent. Irea scrambled to her feet and moved close to Mirage, staring at the strange new Clopin who looked at them with pointed finger. "Neither of you are doing a thing. If this man is everything these women say he is, then it's far too dangerous!! You're staying here until he is safely out of the way. Dont' argue with me." "You can't make us stay here!" Mirage shouted. Clopin stared at her fiercely. "I'm the King, remember?" It was an arguement he seldom used, and only when he refused to be budged. Angrily, Mirage darted forward, kicked him hard on the shin, and then stormed away. "Ouch!" Clopin cried, then looked sadly after his friend. "Mira!!" But she ignored him and continued to walk away. After a moment of hesitation, torn between her friends, Irea ran after Mirage, shooting Clopin a wounded look as she did so. Blissfully unaware of the uncomfortable situation,Harley leapt to her feet. "*I* shall help ya!" she declared grandly "Ain't noone about who knows Mistah J better than me, and well - yer nice people and all" she smiled encouragingly at Clopin who gazed at her from behind stony eyes. Columbine shrugged and went to stand behind Harley. "You're lucky for two reasons" she informed Clopin "One, that Harley wants to help. Two, that Joker kicked Harley. Normally I'd just take Harley back to our time and leave Joker to his deeds. But Joker hurt Harley. I want to hurt Joker. And ruining his plans is the best way to do it." Harley grinned at Columbine in a slightly befuddled fashion "Now that ya mention it, that man of mine kind *does* deserve something of a whuppin', don't he?" Columbine smiled down at her petite friend. "He sure does, Harls." Clopin relaxed somewhat. Alright, the two women didn't have much to do with the madman's scheme, and they were prepared to help. He would let them. He would need all the help they could get. He was sorry Mirage and Irea were angry at him, but he would worry about that later. Looking at his strange guests, Clopin clapped his hands together determinedly. "Alright, let's get planning." 

** 

Mirage had continued walking at full speed with Irea calling for her to wait, until she had left the Court altogether and was up on the streets. She gritted her teeth fiercely, and squirmed in agitation. She didn't *care* if Clopin was trying to protect her, she didn't need his protection! And if her friends were in danger,then dammnit, she was going to help as well!!!! She finally stopped her marching and flung herself down on the cobblestones in a dark and cool alley, wrapping her dirty feet in front of her. Relieved, Irea sat down beside her, her multicolored skirts mingling with Mirage's purple ones, their golden anklets tinkling softly. "Goodness, Mirage, why don't next time you try to walk a little faster?" Mirage didn't responded. Irea leaned a head on her shoulder. "It's alright, Mira." she said softly. Mirage dashed at the tears on her cheeks. "It's *not* alright Irs! I could not save a man from being hung, I could not find my parents, I couldn't even help Errol. Now that bully is trying to stop me from helping our people. They are our people too, Irea! He might be the King, it does not mean he has exclusivity." Irea shrugged uncomfortably. She did not want her two best friends to fight. "At least he cares." she said cheerfully, and nudged Mirage in the side. Mirage sighed. "Yes, that might be so. But we're still going to help" She looked intensely at her friend, one long lock of hair falling over her face. "Aren't we?" Irea grinned at her, her black eyes sparkling. "Of course!!!" 

** 

Vicomtesse de Vincennes marched stone faced down the Palace of Justice's stone steps. She had risen early, even before Frollo. Her rich maroon velvet gown stood out amongst the shabby armour of the night-shift guards, just making their weary way inside to be relieved of duty for the day. They stopped to look after her in some surprise, but she ignored them all, heading straight forward to her waiting coach. The coachman was leaning casually against the side, stroking the beautiful brown mares who pulled it, and chatting jovially with a couple of livered servants. They snapped to attention, their eyes vaguely apprehensive, as their black haired mistress approached them imperiously. She let her cold dark eyes, enormous in her pale face, wonder over each of them condescendingly, before finally coming to a rest on her servants. "You two!" she snapped. "I have a job for you" They bowed to indicate it would be an honor. She ignored them with a sneer. "Go out onto the streets and search until you find a small woman. She will be dressed in red and black, in the garb of a Court Jester. Her face will be painted white, and she will be covered from head to toe. You should recognise her instantly,but if not, she has an annoyingly high pitched voice. Find this woman, and when you do, bring her back to me, directly. Forcibly, if you must. There will be no need to tell the Minister about her. Do you understand." They nodded, their eyes lowered respectfully, their faces still and placid. She looked at them savagely then snapped. "Well if you understand, Go!" They hastily moved out into the streets to begin their scouting, not even daring to silently question their mistress' orders. The coachman carefully helped the Vicomtesse into the coach, and she arranged her skirs carefully, carefully arranging the jasper ring on her finger. As the coach started into movement, she stared blankly ahead, her jaw a determined line. The madman couldn't be trusted. Not at all. She had a feeling he was planning something far worse than the murder of several hundred gypsies, and she was determined to find out what it was. Claude could play the fool, if he wished, but she wouldn't. Her eyes gleamed suddenly. Besides, he would be impressed if she discovered the truth. Maybe that annoying superior edge would drop from his voice afterwards. A small, cold smile curved the Vicomtesse's lips. 

Above, from his room, cloaked in an elaborate red velvet dressing gown, Frollo stared out at the city of Paris, smiling triumphantly to himself. God had sent the Devil, to Paris, it was true, but with him he had sent he, Claude Frollo,the means to do God's work, and send the heathen scum into Hell. Then Frollo could capture the Devil himself as he had come to earth in mortal form, and hang him in front of the good citizens of the city, to show that he could not be led into temptation. Life was most excellent, the Minister mused, as he turned away from the window. Far below him, creeping in the eternal shadows of the Palace's enormous entrance hall, the Joker snickered and shoved an extra gas bomb for "good luck" into the vase next to the other one which quietely ticked there. 

Twenty two hours to go. 

© Harley Quinn 1999 (harley_quinn@cheerful.com) May not be reproduced without permission. 


	6. Default Chapter Title

Mort Rit En Dernier - Chapter Six 

Where *are* those female fools? Clopin thought angrily as he threw aside pillows, frilly corsets, mattresses and scarves in pursuit of Irea and Mirage. Columbine, Harley and himself had more or less decided on a mode of action. Clopin had found himself getting increasingly annoyed with the stony faced Columbine who regarded him from cold eyes and had contributed little except "I'm staying with Harley." Clopin may not have had an education in a monastary, but he was not an idiot either. In fact, life on the streets had equipped him very well for sizing up people like Columbine. She was highly trained, very intelligent and a very quick thinker. Clopin had little doubt she could plan an effect mode of action against The Lunatic, but for some reason she was refusing, gazing balefully out at him from her dark eyes. Harley had tried to be a help, but she was closer to hindrance. Her mind kept wandering to her absent lover, and she was used to doing things in an - unusual - way. For example, she wanted to climb to the belltower of Notre Dame and sing a Twentieth Century drinking song to distract Joker's attention. Clopin's first reaction was one of exasperation, but narrowing his eyes at Harley suddenly in the orange flicker of the candle which stood between them, he saw something distinctly canny on her face. He wondered if perhaps she wasn't playing up her absent mindedness just a little bit, in order to make things difficult for Clopin to fight her lover. He'd left the tent with the decision that the two women were unstable and couldn't be trusted. As a result, he was very - annoyed. Goddamn it! He hated responsibility!!! If he wasn't King he could go outside and sing to the gaje ladies who couldn't resist but giggle in response, or dance on the fountain, or make some new puppets. What did he want? He wanted to go to the tavern and have a few drinks, play with Mirage and Irea, perform on the streets, make love to a few beautiful women, have a delicious meal, sing and dance for most of the night, sleep in the arms of another beautiful woman, and then repeat the process. That wasn't asking too much! And what was happening now? Because some gypsy fools had called his grandfather their leader he, Clopin, had to behave seriously and think out ways of looking after people. It escaped Clopin, in his annoyance, that he had to behave this way maybe twice a year, if that. At any rate,he had called a meeting in the square and instructed the men what to do, who had hurridedly finished their dress, and gathered their cleverly hidden arms, to obey his orders, the "lame men" picking up their crouches, or contorting their bodies into their small carts, the "blind men" arranging their eyepatches or blindfolds. After a moment of indecision, in which he searched the crowd earnestly without success, he asked that Irea and Mirage please got to his tent for a meeting. The ladies will be placated, he thought, they will think I'm planning to let them do something. He didn't want to deceive them, but it was the only way. Then, against his better judgement, he'd given some instructions to the women, but firmly insisted the children were to stay below. Then he'd gone to his tent. Mirage and Irea were not there. Rushing, he'd checked their tents. Not there. Frantic, he'd questioned every passing rom if they had seen his two little friends. Negatives, on every occasion. Clopin was growing more cross with every second. Concern, mixed with anger at being disobeyed, pounded in his head like a hammer. They really couldn't do this!!! Childish tricks were one thing, he adored his girls and loved to have fun,but blatantly disobeying him, an older,wiser man, was entirely another. He leaned against Mirage's makeshift desk of barrels and a plank of wood, and ran both hands through his long black hair, sighing. Damn those female fools. To run off with a dangerous madman loose on the streets, plotting against his people - he'd never forgive them for making him worry like this. Just wait until he got his hands on them! 

** 

Above, on the uneven cobblestones of a particularly rank and filthy street in the slums of Paris, Mirage and Irea were skipping animatedly, completely unaware of Clopin's anger. In fact, almost all of the bizaare string of events, including their former plan to do something, had escaped their thoughts as they chatted lightheartedly about this that and the other thing - how to get some new dresses that weren't so patchy, wasn't Clopin quite gorgeous (that was Irea), no he has a big nose (that was Mirage), did they think the take on the streets would be good this winter, or should they try to save, what were the benefits of hiding Puppet from Clopin? Holding onto one another and laughing rather a littler louder than women should on the streets, they skipped daintily out of the way of muddy puddles, and suspicious eyes, and let their brown faces grow even browner under the bright glare of the sun. Their cavorting came to an abrupt halt suddenly,when they noticed Mauro, Dimitri and Francis, three romany from the Court, behaving very oddly. Francis was examining the roof of one of the dingy houses that populated this area of the town. Mauro was carefully poking around the shabby garden, steps and barrells that surrounded the house. Dimitri was looking around very carefully, keeping a watch out. Dimitri also carried a sack over his shoulder. Looking at each other with bewildered expressions, Irea and Mirage wondered what exactly was going on. They had turned to daylight theivery? What? But the girls knew better than to question older rom men they didn't know, so clutching hands, they turned and moved out of the filthy lower streets of the city, heading for the town square, and the cleaner, more pleasant part of town, where an audience would be with coins in their pockets. But as they made their way through the streets, Irea and Mirage noticed with ever increasing confusion, that there were many romany men out and about today, and all doing the same thing - poking carefully in carts, looking through rubbish in the gutter, scouting carefully along roofs like giant spiders. They were very careful about it, that was certain. Dressed in rags, and with mud on their faces, their swift, silent movements went virtually unnoticed, but the two girls knew their people and knew how to recognise such activity. And as they went further into the business area of the city, where the streets were cleaner, and more filled with hustling, bustling parisians going about their business,they noticed an inordinate amount of performing romani, brilliantly dressed in vivid skirts, and dripping with gold jewellery, dancing, singing, telling fortunes - and growing particularly noisy in the peddling of their trades anytime a Parisian should look a little long at a raggedly dressed romany. Irea and Mirage stopped in a sun dappled lane, sweet with the smell of hay and fruit from the nearby stall, it's neat and clean stone huts lining the streets up and down. Walking over to a small fountain, they drank greedily, and hoisted themselves up on the cold stone, dangling their dirty feet in the water, heedless of their skirts getting wet. In this street alone there was a romani dancing elaborately with a scarf, another singing empassioned love songs to any Parisian man who stopped long enough to stare before being bossily hustled on by his plump little wife,and two younger women who told stories, acting them out as they did so. They were generously spaced out, but so many in one street? Each performing very loudly,very ostentaiously? Looking up at the roofs, shielding her eyes from the sun with one hand,Mirage was not surprised to see a darting figure leaping gracefully about. Squinting, she raised an eyebrow when the figure picked something up and put it in the sack he was carrying. Irea nudged her. Looking around to where her friend indicated with a shake of her shaggy head, Mirage's eyes narrowed as she observed another romany surreptiously hunting in the window box of a little house. Something was definetely going on. Irea and Mirage did not like it at all. When the dancer, a heavily bosomed woman by the name of Josephina, stopped at the fountain for a drink, Mirage and Irea pounced. "Josie!!" Mirage exclaimed. "Tell us immediately, for we have to know, what on earth is going on?" Josephina chocolate brown eyes looked at them increduously, the black freckles over her nose crinkling as she sniffed. "You don't know then? Clopin was calling for you two, what did you do, run away to put spiders in his shoes?" Mirage pinched her brown arm insistently. Josephina swiped at her savagely with her gauzy scarf and glared at them. "Come now, Josephina,tell us, we have a right to know!!!!" Mirage insisted. Josephina put her hands on her ample hips and huffed at them. "This is Clopin's orders!! He has instructed us Paris is under a hidden attack. The men are scouting for the attacker's hidden weapons,we women are distracting the Parisians so they do not shout 'Gypsy Thief' like so many parrots!" A soft romany voice spoke up behind them and the three women turned around with a gasp. A romany man crouched there, the same one from the roof, Mirage realised, his face dark and his eyes hooded. "Ay, tis true what the wench says" his wheezy voice told the girls. "I've found these weapons hidden up on the roof. Some devilry is happening to be sure. Take a look at this." Reaching into the sack he caried, the man pulled out a small round object, purple and green. In the front of it, a garish face extruded, white, with a mass of green hair and purple eyes and a demonic grin. Irea felt a little shiver go down her back as she looked at that unholy grin. "What do you think of that, then eh?" the man whispered, shaking his head as he put it carefully back in his sack. Without another word, he moved silently and swiftly onwards. Josephina gave another sniff, then turned back to the streets to reusme her dancing. Mirage and Irea slumped on the fountain, thoughts racing through their heads. "What can we do, Mira?" Irea spoke up finally. "Clopin told us nothing. I dont' want to just do some magik tricks on the streets. That's nothing." Mirage was sulking to herself. Clopin had called for them after they left the Court, and they'd missed him. Now they wouldn't know what he wanted from them. Opening her mouth to complain loudly to Irea about the fickeleness of men's decisions, she was interupted suddenly by a very loud, strangely accented voice singing bawdily and jauntily, approaching the street they were in. The two girls sat up with a frown. "Too bad you're CRAZY! Too bad you're looney as HELL! SO LONG we coulda been SWELL TO-GEEEE-EEEETHER!!!!!! da da daaaah da da! 

Too bad you're WHACKO! How sad your marbles are GONE! We could be dancing till dawn - But you're too WEIRD for WORDS!!!!!" 

Stopping in mid song, the voice chuckled, and the girls heard the clatter of sharp heels on the pavement. Other people in the street, rom and gadje alike, were stopping what they were doing, and turning around to see who was behind this strange song. Mirage and Irea sat up, leaning forward curiously, and with the others, gave a gasp at the creature who appeared before them. 

It was Joker, resplendant in a plum colored suit,this time with a brilliant orange shirt, having remembered to pack a spare. The blue silk tie knotted at his throat burst forth in an explosion of color, and he wore a green waistcoat. His purple fedora was perched jauntily on his head, and he swept it off with a maniacal grin to bow lowly before the big bosomed Josephina who gaped at him in wonderment. "Beautiful Gypsy scum, it's a pleasure to watch those hips in action!" he said gallantly, shaking his long green hair out, and laughing, turning his face towards the sky so that his white skim was even more bright under the sun. It was the laughter that got to everyone, as it invariably did. The people were quiet, uncertain, not sure what to do. They looked at Joker warily, moving out of the way, as he spun happily down the street, his coat tails swirling around him. In one hand he carried a large fluroescent green object, very very strange. Noone in Paris knew what it was, of course. Actually, it was a very common object in the twentieth century. A "super soaker" water pistol. Except this one wasn't filled with water. It was filled with a liquid form of Joker's laughing toxin. A very nice modification of it, Joker had happened across whilst playing with his chemistry set one night. This one was absorbed through the skin. You didn't need that much. Irea and Mirage realised quickly who the strange creature was, and their hearts beat faster in their chests as they truly began to get an idea about what was happening here, in their city. But surely - surely he couldn't really be what they said he was?? He was only one man. Irea grasped Mirage's slender wrist. "Mira - you run down to the end of the street and hide there" she hissed. "What?" Mirage responded, baffled. Irea looked her in the eye earnestly. "If we're going to do something against this man, we might have better luck if we split up for now. Quickly - go!!!" Mirage heard the urgency in Irea's voice and it panicked her momentarily. She leapt up, and darted gracefully down the street, holding up her dusty skirts, staying as close to the buildings as possible so not to attract Joker's attention. Irea in the meantime,had hidden behind the fountain. Joker had a peculiar aura, and it upset her greatly. She wasn't close enough to him to know what it meant, but she was uneasy about it. On the streets, the others had also began to recover. Several romany gathered together, whispering fiercely, and the same one who had spoken to her and Mirage a moment ago, reached inside his sack and pulled out one of the strange round objects he'd found on the roof. Showing it to the other men, she could see them comparing the face on it with that of The Joker's. Then their foreheads furrowed in anger. No matter the chilling effect this man had on them, he was the enemy they were fighting against, and they didn't know what Irea knew about him. Her heart plummeted and she could feel her stomach turn to ice as they strode angrily forward, calling out to Joker with an aggressive; "Hey!!" No, her stunned mind whispered, don't go out there! But she couldn't say anything. Joker turned to his aggressors, an exaggerated expression of questioning on his face, his eyebrows raised high, his mouth pulled down in a small 'o'. "Hey you, white man!! What do you want here?" a black bearded romany questioned him savagely. Joker lay a gracious hand on his chest. "My dear sir, I wish for nothing more than to admire this fair city! I am but a humble tourist, taking in the sights, the sounds, the considerable pleasures, of Paris in Autumn!" The romany, of course, were not convinced. Another stepped forward, wrenching the small round object out of his sack, brandishing it before Joker. "We were told the city is under attack, and these are the weapons. Look an awful lot like you, wouldn't you agree?" He snarled. Joker frowned. A real frown. Irea shivered. When Joker spoke again, his voice was quiet and careful. "May I ask where you found that, my good fellow?" The romany gave a hoarse laugh "We've found more than one, you skinny goat!" the insult was a bluff "we're finding all these little balls all over the city, and are removing them! What do you think of that, eh?" Joker's lips were trembling, his brows were one long fierce line, and his eyes blazed with a purple fire. "You're....ruining....my....joke!" he managed to spit out through gritted teeth. Thinking the anger would play to their advantage, the romany men laughed. The romani women had slowly left their performing positions to come and watch cautiously over the shoulders of the men; even the Parisians were curious, and they gathered around the Joker. Joker was furious. All this time,all this effort, to play a totally brilliant gag on Batman, Frollo AND World History, and these ignorant medieval peasants were ruining it!!!!! Joker growled viciously as the men laughed around him, clenching his fists, his left hand squeezing the plastic of the super soaker he carried. Instantly, Joker's anger faded. The supersoaker!!!! Well - it's not like this trip had to be *all business* now was it? Joker lifted the supersoaker and "cocked" it, grinning his deathly grin once more, his tone again light and bouncy. "Well they say in the world of comedy, that you have to keep the show going! If one gag goes wrong, work it into another! And guess what? This time, you're all it!" The brittle snap of his voice had caught the people's attention, and their eyes widened quickly as Joker pulled the supersoaker's trigger and a long stream of pale green liquid burst out, hitting the first insolent romany in the face, then spreading in a long arc over the faces, hands and necks of the other surrounding gypsies and parisians. With cries of disgust and alarm, the people backed away, perhaps ten in all, each hit somewhere. From where she hid, Irea watched with wide, frightened eyes. What was going to happen now? The romany man began first, chuckling into his thick black beard, shoulders shaking helplessly. Then the others began to join in, like a macabre round of song, the laughter spreading from person to person, growing increasingly more violent. In convulsions, Josephina fell to the ground, writhing and laughing helplessly, tearing at her face with her nails. Another romany was beating his head against the wall in his frenzy, unable to stop himself. The parisians tore at their hair and their clothes, one by one falling to the hard cobblestones of the Paris streets, twisting and turning in an agony of laughtr. And in the middle of it all, Joker, like a Priest in a Ceremony of Sacrifice, spread his arms wide, and threw his head back, laughing joyously with his victims. Irea ducked down around the fountain, blocking her ears, squeezing her eyes shut tight. At the far end of the street, Mirage also watched the proceedings with frightened tears pouring down her cheeks. She shook her head stubbornly, not wanting to believe what she was seeing. It couldn't be happening! Clopin, she had to tell Clopin! Praying that Irea was alright, Mirage gathered her skirts up and darted swiftly out of her hiding place, not daring to look behind her as she ran, heedless of her feet being cut on sharp stones, trying to get as far away from the frenzied laughter as she could. Back under the fountain, Irea thought she had finally succeeded in blocking the noise out, when she realised she could still hear one person chuckling. Joker. Carefully edging up, she dared a peek over the side. Joker was spinning in a slow circle, grinning delightedly, nudging at the people at his feet. They were all very still. Each one had their face twisted into a hideous grin. Irea realised they were all dead. She turned away and vomited violently. Joker heard it. "Come out come out wherever you are!" he called playfully, idly spinning his super soaker on one finger, clacking his heels as he danced over towards the fountain, and the mess Irea had just made. "Woops, lucky I saw that, wouldn't want to ruin my heels" he chuckled, as he avoided it, and saw the small, huddled figure croching as close to the fountain as possible. Leaning against the fountain, he bent over and leered into her pointed little face. "Hi!" he said cheerfully. Irea looked up at him through stunned black eyes. She saw now why his aura was so peculiar. He'd been touched by some kind of Faerie Magik in his life. Not a good kind either. She didn't know how strong it made him, but she knew some magik of her own. Stumbling to her feet, she gazed up as the Joker straightened to full height and eyed his supersoaker thoughtfully, clearly wondering whether to spray Irea with it straight away, or talk to her first. Not wanting to give him the chance to reach a decision, Irea began to talk rapidly. "Your plan is going to fail" she said, horsely at first, but increasing in strength as what he had done sunk in and she began to grow furious about it. "We will stop you!! You might as well give up right now!!" Joker raised another eyebrow. "Well, is that a fact now?" he said. He boldly reached out a hand and ran an icy finger down the length of Irea's snubbed nose. She trembled, but continued to stand her ground, calling to her certain magik phrases, working her hands as slightly as possible so that he wouldn't notice the movement, as Joker leered down into her face. "Are you saying something, toots?" He asked, and at that second, Irea directed her magik at him. It whacked him in the chest in an orange haze, and knocked him back. As she feared, the Magik he'd been touched with was too strong for her simple spell, but it loosened the grip on the supersoaker. She wrenched it out of his hands as he shook his head dazedly, his cuban heels striking the cobblestones, and stumbling back, rubbing his eyes. She didn't know what to do with this thing, but holding the pointed end away from her, she fiddled with it frantically for several movements, until squeezing something that gave way beneath her finger and let loose some of the liquid within. Triumphant, Irea turned to the dazed Joker, and caught sight of Josephina's crumbled dark skinned form,like a discarded doll, on the pavement behind him. Her temper reached it's peak and she shrieked at Joker hsyterically. "Let's see how funny you think it is NOW you bastard!" and squeezed as much of the toxin on Joker as she could. Joker recovered from the choom of magik, and stood gaping at her with open mouth as the liquid hit and spread over his silk shirt, staining it rapidly. He shut his eyes in irritation, as the toxin ran over his face, and got in his nose. Then he opened them and glared down at Irea, who was staring up at him, wide eyed with expectancy, holding the supersoaker clumsily. She'd just ruined his hair, and stained one of his favourite shirts. Irea waited, waited for the laughter, and when the low chuckle finally burst forth from his lips, she gave a gasping laugh and kept waiting for more. But it stayed the same, and she realised the eys were still focused and canny, and very very angry, on her. Shaking her head in despair, Irea backed hastily away as The Joker menacingly started forward and snatched the supersoaker out of her hands, once again leering on her as she reached the wall of the hut behind her and realised she was trapped. "Tsk tsk tsk" Joker said chidingly, getting closer and closer, like a menacing shadow. "Sweetheart, nice try, but it just so happens that this little toxin of mine is made from the same stuff that runs through my blood. You want a tranlastion, you primitive, dirty, humourless excuse for a peasant?" He grabbed the terrified Irea by her hair and yanked her forward, knocking her to the ground. "I'm immune to it!" Irea was crying as Joker started to laugh once more. This is it, she thought, my life is ended! And I never did tell Clopin how I felt. She shut her eyes and waited for the liquid to hit her but it didn't. Hesitatingly, she opened an eye and took a peek at Joker. he was standing, one leg otustretched, hand on his hip, other one stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Now, let me see." he mused. "Someone's obviosuly been giving out the punchline to my little joke before I've had time to play it" his cold gaze slithered over Irea again, and a snakey smile crossed his features "'*We* will stop you', didja say before toots? Hmmm? Maybe you and I should get to know each other a little better, whaddya say,huh?" And grasping her by the hair once more, Joker dragged her unmercifully over the corspes of her former companions, laughing at the sun which beat down hard and burned their dead skin, even as the flies began to crawl over their frozen smiles. 

** 

© Harley Quinn 1999 (harley_quinn@cheerful.com) May not be reproduced without permission. 


	7. Default Chapter Title

Mort Rit En Dernier - Chapter Seven 

Harley was having fun. No check that, Harley was having ALOT of fun! Back when Harley was at GCU, her favorite reading material had not been the fat, heavy psychological study texts she needed to know by heart to pass her exams; no it had the even fatter, yet considerably lighter, Harlequin romances that Harley thumbed again and again and daydreamed about during the three hour long exams. The pure beauty of the lush descriptions had set Harley's heart all afluttering and made her wish for the day when she'd have a barrel chested, suave and sophisticated, cosmopolitan kind of guy, with thick hair and a winning smile and a marvellous sense of fun. She supposed it was them what had helped develop her taste for Mistah J, he was just like the heroes from the books. She always imagined herself as the beautiful heroine, with soft creamy skin, flowing curly locks and big wet eyes, petulant yet charming, going through all kinds of trials and tribulations before finally being reunited with her one true love at the end. She supposed her relationship with Mistah J was just like that. Harley always dreamed of living in a world just like those chicks too. Cobblestones and carriages, and full skirted dresses with low, laced up necklines. Now here she was, in just such a dress, in medieval PARIS, the most romantic city in the world, going through torment to find her way back to her man, she even had the "other" love interest to momentarily distract her!!!! Oh yeah, Harley was having fun! In keeping with her "gypsy" disguise, Harley danced gracefully along the streets, heedless of how hard and sharp the cobblestones were, ignoring the glares of Parisians, completely caught up in her role. She swished her skirts and winked at a few of the men, then gave Columbine a confused look when she laid a hand on her shoulder and told her to be careful. Careful of what? This was awesome. Harley sighed happily and clutched her hands beneath her chin, blinking at everything around her. It was the middle of the day, and the sun was lovely and warm, and the trees were brown and golden, and a lovely breeze would gently lift a shower of autumn leaves onto the people milling the streets every now and then. Harley and Columbine had made their way into the more upmarket side of Paris, and Harley was rapidly forgetting the slums she had come through, preferring this more idealised picture. The houses were larger here, and cleaner, and although they were still an odd higgeldy piggeldy in the style of Medieval homes - winding streets, and frequent turns and little stairs leading up and down to small doors and funny little tunnels, the general atmosphere was one of a more comfortable way of life. Mothers held their fat children by the hands as they flounced from store to store, and men stopped to greet one another formally and discuss business. Harley thought it was all just too *too* terribly romantic. Columbine, on the other hand, was not feeling so wonderful. Paris, even medieval Paris, brought back some discomforting memories for her, and she did not like the attitude towards young, shabbily dressed women, at all. Especially if those women sang out loud or danced, like Harley. Apart from anything else, Columbine couldn't get the image of the large purple bruise decorating Harley's back out of her mind. Even now she could see her little friend moved stiffly. It made her utterly, totally furious. Perhaps what irked her more than anything else is that she really couldn't do anything to teach Joker a lesson for it, apart from stopping his plans against the city, and maybe giving him a punch or two when Harley's back was turned. Columbine had seen how Harley reacted on previous occasions when the Joker was thought to be dead, and it wasn't pretty. More than once she'd been on a continual diet of tranquilisers and straitjackets for weeks in order to stop her hysteria and from killing herself, until Joker chose to re-emerge. And if Harley would ever find out that Columbine had killed Joker - well, Columbine didn't like to think about it. Better to get Joker where it *really* hurt than lose Harley. Harley had decided she want to help the handsome Gypsy King, and the way she described him running his hands through her hair and gazing into her eyes made Columbine's blood boil!!! What was it with Harley and her choice of men? Trouillefou was obviously a ladies' man, and very experienced in tricking women into doing what he wanted. She hoped Harley wouldn't fall too hard for him. It would be one instance where she would welcome Joker reappearing. Still, if Harley had decided she wanted to help, than Columbine would stick by her of course. But Columbine was also feeling a little confused by Harley. As ga-ga as she was over Clopin, Harley had played the fool during their planning. Columbine knew Harley very well; Harley was absent minded and full of strange ideas which made total sense to her and nobody else, but she'd been just a tad *over* vacant and silly with Clopin. Had Joker planned something far worse than what Harley had said, or was Harley just petulant about working against Joker? Columbine was unsure as yet, and kept an eye out. She saw the rom working where Harley didn't, and she was impressed. They were more skilled than she'd given them credit for, as they slowly tracked down Joker's gas bombs and removed them. They loped like shadows along the pavement and over the roofs, the romani holding the suspicious Parisians attentions like huge, dramatically colored birds as they sang and danced through the middle of the streets. And what was she and Harley going to do? Well, that was entirely up to whatever took Harley's fancy. Columbine, not really caring about the fate of these people, was content to let Harley act when she felt like it. Harley caught Columbine's hand up in hers and swinged it joyously as the two women trotted down the streets of Paris, the one dark and the other fair, like the heroines of the old faerie tales. Harley gave Columbine's hand a squeeze and winked up at her. "Can I tell ya something, Columbs?" "Harley, you know you can tell me anything." "I know! I just wanted to check." She grinned at Columbine disarmingly before continuing. "I think Mistah J is kinda going a little far this time, ya know? That's the big main reason I wanna stop him. I just woulda preferred to do it on my own, and not dob him in to those guys. I mean - I coulda just crushed the remote control or something. There doesn't need to be this big cavalry thing on the streets." Columbine frowned. "Joker brings it on himself." Harley squirmed agitatedly and hmmmd. They walked for a short while in silence, still holding hands, before Harley spoke up again. "Also, I'm kinda mad at him for kicking me." Columbine stopped and threw her hands into the air "HALLELUJAH! Praise Buddha!!!" she swept the giggling Harley up into an embrace before letting go and continuing to trot down the streets, her heart considerably lighter, a smile on her blue lips. Harley shrugged a little and grimaced in a cheerful way. She was mad at Mistah J, it was true. She wouldn't of minded the kicking bit if only he hadn't kicked her OUT. She coulda taken a whuppin and dealt with it. But abandoning her on the streets - well, it made life like a romance novel, but didn't the heroines get cranky when that happened? Yup! Still, she couldn't wait to be back in his arms again. Should she kiss Clopin before she did? This question had been preying on Harley's mind. For the last five years no man had known her but Joker. She was reluctant to let even that handsome Gypsy with those burning dark eyes and soft soft hands and gentle voice kiss the lips she thought of as belonging to Mistah J. But whenever Harley thought how Clopin *hadn't* hit her, she sighed and wondered what his mouth tasted like. They had wandered into a part of town that was virtually deserted, all private homes where the owners were either at the markets, or locked safely within having their midday meal.Harley fell silent for once,and they enjoyed the quiet and the coolness of the breeze as Harley thought and Columbine waited. Harley suddenly stopped in mid stride and sniffed the air vigorously. Columbine looked at her curiously. "Whats wrong sweetie?" Harley's nose was quivering and her eyes were bright with joy. "Mistah J's aftershave!! It's on the wind!! O he's nearby, come on lets find him!!" Groaning inwardly, Columbine let her hand be snatched and herself pulled down to the end of the street and around the corner. What met them as they did so caused even those hardened lunatics to stop and stare. Corpses littered the pavement of Parisian and Rom alike, perhaps ten. All with enormous stretched smiles on their faces. They had not been dead very long, Columbine observed, perhaps ten minutes. It was a very short street, mainly small shops. She couldn't see anyone else. Columbine was willing to bet that most of the street's residents were lying dead on the cobblestones. Harley's face was working in an agitated manner. She couldn't decide whether to be happy her Puddin' was nearby and working his magik, or upset over the loss of innocent lives. Columbine waited for her obsession to win, as it always did, but Harley's face remained confused. The Gypsy King has a greater hold on her than I thought, Columbine mused to herself. I think Harley really would like to help him save his people. 

Knowing better than to linger too long near the scene of a crime and be around when other people would walk past, the two girls swiftly moved on, Harley chewing her lower lip thoughtfully. Columbine frowned a little. True, she didn't care about these people - but it was a shame. Joker was always interfering with things he had no right to. Harley, in the meanwhile, didn't know what to think. Normally, she was thrilled to pieces when Joker did his work, but here it seemed - wrong somehow. At least in Gotham it was Mistah J's city and he could do what he liked with it. But those people back there weren't Puddin's. They didn't support no Batman. And Harley could hear Clopin's warm soft voice against her cheek again. Aawww.....they *were* gonna haveta stop Mistah J. There wasn't anything else to it! But they'd have to do it in secret. Harley didn't want Joker to know she was plotting against him. 

** 

The Vicomtesse's servants had been unsuccessful in tracking Harley down. With a baleful look to let them know they'd be punished for failing, she'd instructed her coachman to drive around the city. She couldn't believe the young female would be clever enough to hide somewhere until night, instead of wondering in broad daylight in that ridiculous costume. Certain of success she peered coldly out at every passing face. But the Vicomtesse was unsuccessful too. Furious, she wrenched at the rings on her fingers and gritted her teeth. This was unacceptable! The fool had to be here somewhere. Sighing in irritation to herself, she leant back against the plush velvet of her carriage cushions,a small line breaking the smoothness of her forehead. Her carriage ambled through the town square, and then lurched violently. Tossed to the side, the Vicomtesse's shoulder was whacked, and her large velvet hat slipped. Rearranging it furiously she pounded on the small window between herself and the coachman. "What is happening out there, Erik?" she snapped. He turned around hastily to apologise, but it was interupted by a splendid singing voice, telling a bewitching tale about a water nymph who fell in love with a mortal men and drowned him to keep him forever with her. Even the Vicomtesse's icy heart was affected by the beauty of the song and the way it was sung, and she leaned out of her carriage window to see who the performer was. Once she did however, the effect wore off, and her brow was once again creased with that one line. A dark skinned man, dressed in a hideous outfit of motley colors. A Gypsy Jongleur. It was he who had dangerously cartwheeled in front of the coach, she became aware of Erik hastily explaining, and caused the horses to skitter. Her pale lips curling in disgust she motioned violently for Erik to drive on. As they left the town square, a flash of red and black caught her eyes, and she once again leapt forward to look out the window. No - it was just a young girl, with very blonde hair, dressed in a red dress. A taller, darker one was with her, in blue. Peasant girls. The Vicomtesse felt more annoyed than ever, and grinded her teeth delicately. This was becoming intolerable. As the carriage continued to amble on, she gave a start and peered more closely at the two girls. Their style of dress was very definetely of the Rom, but they obviously were not. As the small blonde one turned her way, The Vicomtesse caught a glimpse of her wide smile, and maniacal eyes and let out a hiss through her teeth, her eyes wide and gleaming triumphantly. That was the girl she sought. She was sure of it. Rapping imperiously on the small window again, she instructed Erik to follow the two girls and to not let them out of his sight. With a polite tip of his hat, and a grimace when he turned away again, Erik clicked to his horses to follow Harley and Columbine. 

** 

Clopin had gone out to perform as usual, but not in his puppet cart. Puppet was safely hidden away in the folds of his costume,but for the most part Clopin wondered the streets singing, juggling, telling stories and doing whatever other tricks came to mind. A thoughtful observor would of found it very curious Clopin did not once throw down his hat to collect coins. Clopin was not in his puppet cart because he wanted to keep an eye on the streets. He was excedingly nervous about the dangerous tasks his people were undertaking, not only because of Joker, but because of the consequences should any of them be caught. So he cavorted playfully, knocking the hats of Parisian men, flirting shamelessly with their daughters before darting away to avoid their father's wrath, and cleverly "vanishing" parisian women's goods before returning them with a playful wink. Not a person could tell from his dexterous tricks and lively air that he was watching everything that was going on with canny eyes. Nothing went past him. He was a popular performer on the streets, and groups of people stopped regularly to watch him with smiles on his faces. Several of the children even followed him about,giggling gleefully, and tugging on his tunic for him to play a funny trick on them. He noticed that a few young girls did too, hanging shyly back trying not to be noticed, not so young he couldn't perhaps go and have a word with them afterwards...ah Clopin, you lascivious rascal. They *were* too young, really. Anyway, Clopin's stomach gave a lurch when he thought of it,and he felt headachy. He didn't know why, but it had been that way since the morning. It wasn't the most important thing on his mind anyway, Clopin had sharp eyes and noticed all that went on abouts, and noticing the unusual was what he looked for now. Mirage and Irea would be an added bonus. Clopin was very worried about his little lady friends. None of the rom he'd spoken to had caught sight of either girl in recent hours. Why did he worry so much? Those girls were more than capable of taking care of themselves as they'd proven time and time again. It couldn't just be because of this Joker demon that was wondering the streets. Clopin mused thoughtfully as he cartwheeled and poked fun at a drunk man, mimicking his lurching. He never thought of Irea and Mirage without the other immediately springing to mind, that was the way things were. And now when he thought of them, he felt odd. Why? Clopin sang, juggling fruit, and continued to think, his attention well and truly distracted from the streets. He wasn't being honest with himself. He didn't feel odd, he felt the way he felt whenever he met a new woman who captured more than just his interest. It was stronger too, this feeling. But it had to be impossible. Irea and Mirage were his friends nothing more. And he certainly couldn't feel this way about both of them - not without some serious perverse thoughts running to his head. Perverse thoughts he couldn't help but smile at. Still, if he wasn't just overly confused because he was doing too many things at once, Clopin had to admit he was attracted to at least of his young lady friends. Now what the hell was he going to do about that, besides worry himself sick until they reappeared? Clopin sighed and moved on through the streets, once more focusing on the people around him. A voice rose in conflict with his own, a voice with a strange accent. An accent very like Columbine's. The voice was a man's. Not ceasing for an instant, Clopin continued to sing and dance, a mocking song about the purity of noblewomen, and what they actually got up to with their pageboys, perhaps a little risque for this time of day, but this voice made Clopin more nervous. It was the one thing that betrayed him as being unsettled, for outwards Clopin was the consummate performer, smiling and lighthearted, not putting a step wrong. But one by one, the people's attention around him was being distracted. They were turning their heads to look in amazmement at something that was approaching to Clopin's far left. Feeling as much annoyance at this stealing of his audience as he did trepidation of the coming foreigner, Clopin dared to turn around, still singing, and had his first glimpse of The Joker. Not even the elaborate description given him by Columbine and Harley had prepared him for the actual sight of the man, tall and rail thin, white as bone and that chilling smile. Clopin's eyebrows shot to the top of his forehead, and he looked carefully around to make sure his people were moving safely away, as he'd instructed them to do should the man approach, but he kept on performing. The Joker was clearly intrigued by Clopin's performance, and stopped his long stride, folding his arms and adopting a critical attitude as he looked Clopin up and down thoughtfully. He was only a couple of inches taller than Clopin, and thinner. Clopin in turn watched him carefully, and suddenly there was an instant where the two's eyes met and locked, and Clopin's heart beat fiercely in his chest as he thought about what this man wanted to do to Paris. Finishing his song, Clopin leapt to Joker's side, and addressed the rest of the audience. "Well, what have we here, dressed so motley and painted so strangely? A Clown perhaps, my friends?" The audience tittered a little,looking forward to the approaching show, and Joker's smile grew larger and more sharky. "Not a Clown, Jester, but a Joker" he replied. His voice sounded like fingernails scraping on wood, but Clopin pushed it aside, and waggled a playful finger at The Joker, while his eyes looked fierecely into his purple ones, letting The Joker know what he really thought. "Not a Jester, le fou, but a Jongleur! The finest in all France, n'cest pas?" The audience gave a cheering agreement, and Clopin readied himself. Though he had gazed unflinchingly into Joker's eyes, what he saw there chilled him to the bone. With a quick movement of his hand, Clopin whipped Joker's strange hat off his head, and begin twirling it over one finger. As he guessed, Joker immediately frowned. The man is full of conceit, Clopin thought to himself. Find a weakness in his vanity. Smiling again, Joker stepped forward as Clopin ducked and darted out of the way. He began a dumb show with the hat, making pretence it was stuck to his hand, the audience roaring as he struggled to get it off, slipping, rolling around on the ground, soiling the hat in the process, and "smashing" his fist against the wall, bending the brim. Joker was positively glowering now, frozen in anger, gazing at Clopin fiercely, but Clopin kept on, until finally his fist burst through the top of the hat, tearing the fabric. The audience laughed and laughed, as Clopin pretended dismay, and apologetically plonked the hat back on Joker's head. Joker wrenched it off with a snarl and threw it to the ground, then reached inside his coat pocket. Before he could get whatever he was looking for, however, Clopin plucked the flower from Joker's lapel, sniffing it, then sneezing vigorously. Tearing the flower up, he let it drop, using the quickest sleight-of-hand he could reached inside one of his costumes hidden pockets, the action going unnoticed by everyone. Then he pulled Joker's silk handkerchief from his breast pocket, and vigorously blew his nose. Joker was livid, and had pulled out whatever it was from inside his coat. It was a strange black object, shiny and somehow ugly looking. But just as Joker lifted the object to point it directly as Clopin's head, Clopin gave a last terrific sneeze, blowing the multicolored powder he had pulled from his costume out of the handkerchief and directly into Joker's face, who gasped in astonishment, and rubbed at his eyes where the powder stung them. The audience were rolling around on the stone floor at the show, but Clopin stopped only for a hasty bow before darting speedily out of the square before Joker's sight cleared. Something was telling him to move away and fast. Clopin had no idea how close he had just come to death. The black shiny object was a gun. Even as Clopin darted through the laneways at top speed, several loud bangs from the town square reached his ears, sending birds flying startled into the sky, and shocking several of the Parisians around him, making them jump. Confused and disturbed, Clopin paused and looked back towards the square with a bewildered frown, before resuming his movement. 

** 

Joker contented himself with blowing the heads off a few of the audience members, as the others panicked and ran away. That Jester, whoever he was, had made him, The Great Joker, look a fool!! Joker hated nothing more. Well - except maybe Batman. But Batman was irrelevant right now!! Joker stepped casually over the massive form of a former Baker, blood and brains running down his dead face, and thought over the Jongleur who'd just made himself a very bad enemy. The man's face had been too dark for a Parisian, his accent too wild and guttural, the gold earring dropping from his ear and the wildness with which he conducted himself all pointing to the fool as being one of the rom. A gypsy. Joker rapidly left the town square, his smile once again running like blood over his smooth face. A gypsy eh? Well, maybe it was time to have a little talk with his pretty gypsy captive. 

** 

Columbine became aware of the carriage following them as they crossed one of the bridges leading over the river. Not exactly subtle, she thought scornfully, but did not say anything to Harley. The opulence of the carriage signalled that it belonged to one of the upperclass - perhaps a minion of Frollo's? Harley had filled Columbine in on everything that had happened the previous night. Harley was blissfully unaware of anything untoward. She bought bread and cheese from a stall and munched it happily, taking long draughts of water from the nearby fountain. "This is the life, eh Columbs?" she asked cheerfully, as she sat down in the shade of a tree for a rest. Columbine watched the carriage pass by slowly. Then she sat next to Harley. "We'll see how you feel after a week of no running water, no toothpaste and no TV, Harls." Columbine said dryly. The carriage had turned around, and was approaching the two girls. Columbine cocked an eyebrow that all pretence was being given up and watched interestedly. The coach stopped right in front of the two girls, Harley finally noticing and looking up with a gaping mouth. A richly dressed woman leaned out of the window, looking down at them haughtily. She was quite beautiful, in her own way, with very pale skin and gleaming black hair. Her prescence demanded attention. An Italian, Columbine thought, though her skin is very fair. She probably doesn't get out much. "Hey it's you!" Harley exclaimed, surprised. A flicker of annoyance crossed the haughty woman's face. "Yes, it is I." She said in carefully modulated tones. "Well how 'bout that!" Harley didn't know whether to seem pleased or not. Columbine spoke up. "Forgive my ignorance, but just who might 'you' be?" The woman's eyes crossed Columbine scornfully and Columbine felt her hackles rise. She didn't like this woman. "This - girl - knows, and that is all that is necessary for now." Harley shrugged at Columbine and got to her feet, wiping her fingers off on her skirts. Columbine followed suit, standing next to Harley protectively and glaring at the woman who wasnt' completely unaware of the intensity of Columbine's gaze. "So whatcha doin slummin out here, huh? Ya didn't strike me as the type!" Harley asked the woman cheerfully. The woman reacted slightly, her eyes glittering. She wasn't sure what to say, but took a deep breath and found something. "Do you wish to be reunited with your lover, child?" she snapped at Harley. Harley's eyebrows shot up. "Yeah, howdja know??" she asked blissfully. "I imagine I'm just more astute than most" the woman said dryly "I have means by which you can do this." Harley cocked her head to one side. What was going on here?? The Victemessie just appeared poof! Outta nowhere and now this?? Still - if she could get Harley back to Mistah J.... "Yeah, how ya gonna do that?" Harley questioned, slightly suspicious. The woman smiled softly. "Come with me and I shall tell you. Your - friend" with a snooty sideways look at Columbine "may join us" Harley hmmmd, then turned to Columbine. Columbine gazed down at her friend. "This woman's about as trustworthy as a doctor with a syringe, Harls" she said quietely. Harley nodded and shrugged again. "Yah,maybe, but I could whup her butt. Ok, Columbs, here's what we're gonna do. I'm gonna go off with this chick here and you go back to - " she shot a glance at the haughty woman then spoke in a deep voice,waggling her eyebrows in a signifcant way "You know where! If I don't come back in two hours, then raise hell!!!" Columbine frowned, puckering her beautiful face. "I dont' like it sweety. I want to stick with you." Harley shook her head "Nope, we gotta have all our bases covered for - " again the eyebrow waggle "You know what! Don'tcha worry about me, babe, I'm tough!!" Giving Columbine a wet kiss, Harley joined the strange woman, and waved to her cheerfully as she opened the carriage door and jumped in. The imperious woman shut the door with a sharp snap, gave Columbine one last glowering look and indicated to her coachman to drive on. Columbine watched them, standing still and quiet, until the carriage turned a street and dissapeared from view. She narrowed her eyes. She didn't like anything that was happening. None of it. At all. 

** 

© Harley Quinn, 2000 (harley_quinn@cheerful.com) May not be reproduced without permission. 


	8. Default Chapter Title

Mort Rit en Dernier - Chpater Eight 

Clopin had been considerably unnerved by his encounter with The Joker, and made his way quickly to the Lotta Wine Tavern. Shaking off his discomfort quickly, he entered ostentaiously, calling out greetings to the people he knew, vigorously kissing each of the barmaids who laughed and swatted him, before finally sitting down, removing his hat and running one of his large hands through his hair with a sigh. He ordered a tankard of beer and gulped it down quickly, then asked for another. At least things were going to plan, he mused to himself.Never mind the maniac. He won't succeed in his scheme. Behind him the tavern door burst open, slamming against the wall with a shudder, letting in the sounds of the wind and cheerful voices from outside. Clopin raised an eyebrow as he gazed into his drink. Someone was rather upset. The tavern door slammed shut again, closing off the outside noise, and quick light steps hurried themselves over to him before two shaky arms encircled his waist in relief and a head was leaned against his back. Turning around in some astonishment, and with difficulty as his embracer would not loosen her grip, he was surprised to find Mirage, clinging to him and shaking. "Mira!" he exclaimed in relief and considerable concern, and swept her small form into his arms. "Whats wrong, darling?" Mirage gave another shudder and controlled herself. The girl rarely let tears get the better of her, and this instance was no exception. Taking a few deep breaths she rested her head against Clopins' chest gratefully, and let herself be soothed by gentle hands stroking her dark head. Clopin was not renowed for his patience, however, and cupping her face in his hands lifted it to look into her eyes. "What's wrong with you?" he questioned gently and playfully in an attempt to get her back to herself. "You're only like this once a year, and it's not that time yet!" Mirage sat up a little, resting both hands on Clopin's shoulders. "I know, I know. Clopin, I've just seen the most awful sight of my life!!!!" Concern again leaped in his chest, and he pulled his friend closer. "Are you alright? What was it?" She nodded "I'm fine. Can we go back home? I need to be somewhere that feel safe." Clopin nodded, laid a few coins on the bar for his drinks, then hustled Mirage out of the tavern. Outside, the weather had turned, as was common with August, and the wind was blowing wildly, with a considerable bite to it. It was coming to late afternoon, and the citizens of Paris were rushing about their last duties, eager to get back home and out of the fierce wind which ripped at their hair and clothes and blew dust into their eyes. Clopin put an arm around Mirage and the two hurried through the streets, careful of potential pursuers, before coming to one of the hidden entrances to the Court of Miracles, a small sewer opening. Clopin lowered his long body in carefully, then held up his arms for Mirage to jump into. A few minutes later they were safe and warm in the Court, empty apart from the children who ran quickly back to the tents at the adult's arrival, not willing for any of their mischief to be discovered. Clopin hurried Mirage into his tent, running another large hand through her hair, and getting her a little drink of wine. Although outwardly she was the picture of calm, and her usual good humor, Clopin knew his friend far too well to be fooled. She sipped the red wine gratefully, looking over the brim of her glass at Clopin with large mellow eyes. Clopin again felt that peculiar knot in his stomach, and leaned on the back of a chair, watching her carefully. Mirage gave him a look that was meant to be furious, but came out as a lopsided grin. "Where on earth were you all day, Gypsy Fool? I spent hours trying to find you in my frenzied state! I went to the tavern three times." He grinned at her and shrugged "I've been all over the city today, sweet. I've had alot of work to do, and two disobedient gypsy girls to track down." He furrowed his forehead meaningfully at her and she pulled a face at him. "You know I will never obey your foolish orders,'King'." She said, unconcerned."I know too many of your deep dark secrets to treat you like a boss!" She looked at him slyly "Like escapades with tiger tails and other related foolishness." He grinned at her again. "Hey, you know I love that tail! Don't bring up any of that rubbish!And besides, Mira, when I tell you to do something, it's to keep you safe darling." Mirage wrinkled her nose. "I hate it when you're like this. Can't you act like yourself again?" Clopin frowned at her. "No, dammnit. I met our enemy today, and it hasn't sat well on my stomach to know you and your pixie friend have been running the streets with him about." Mirage remembered why she had been so anxious to find Clopin, and the smile fell from her face. Clopin pulled a chair over to her and sat down, clutching his hands in hers. "What did you see, today, Mirage?" "I saw him" she said dully "I saw the magik he uses. It's true. What those women said. It makes people laugh, they cannot stop themselves. They laugh like madmen, Clopin." Mirage's eyes were shining, and Clopin hastily put a hand on her cheek. Mirage would never let her tears fall, and he didn't know how to react if they did now. "I couldn't stand it, I had to get away." Clopin pondered for a moment. "What about Irea?" Mirage's chin trembled. "I don't know, we agreed to split up. I don't know where she is, I haven't seen her anywhere." The girl gulped hard, and breathed deeply again. Crying never helped. Clopin, thankfully, had pulled her to him again. He didn't particularly want her to cry either, worried about the effect it would have on him. Concern for Irea was beating in his skull, but the little dark haired girl in his arms was a welcome prescence. Mirage was his very best friend, and he wasn't sure how life would go on without her. He hated it when she was upset, which was thankfully rare, and would do anything he could to keep her her usual, smiling, prank-pulling self. Was it Mirage who made him feel so strange? In a way, it would make sense. Inseperable since childhood it seemed sensible that these feelings would be a natural progression from their close bond. Mirage was beautiful and clever and alot of fun. And his best friend. When he thought about it he really would rather spend time with her than with one of his women. Stroking her hair, he cupped a hand under her chin and lifted her face to look at him. Her eyes widened in surprise at the expression on his face. "Clopin, why on earth are you looking at me like that?" Well, he would have to find out sooner or later. This would be the best way to do it. Stroking her cheek, he lowered his face to hers and kissed her. Mirage's eyes boggled open in surprise, but she didn't pull away. She couldn't think of a single reason for Clopin kissing her like this - like he kissed his women - but in a way it was comforting. After a moment she closed her eyes and kissed him back. Her arms went up around his neck and his were around her waist and for a long while the two friends held onto each other and kissed passionately. For a while the world faded out and they concentrated on each other's mouths, exploring the one thing they knew nothing about the other. If he tries to get me over to the bed I'll have to kick him though, Mirage thought. She didn't think Clopin would do that, but one could not always be sure with the Gypsy King. Slowly, they drew apart and looked at each other hesitatingly. After a moment, Mirage laughed and ran a hand through her hair. "Why Clopin, why didn't you tell me before?" she said teasingly, though her heart beat fast. As nice as the kiss was, she hoped there wasn't anything behind it, except a moment of overenthusiastic friendship. She didn't feel that way about Clopin, and wouldn't know what to do if he did. Clopin, meanwhile, was feeling more confused than ever. Kissing Mirage had been lovely, and had answered a question he'd often asked himself (what it would be like to kiss his best friend), but it had also become clear that he wasn't in love with Mirage, and didn't want her in that capacity either. Irea then? An image of the pretty, snub nosed gypsy-faerie girl ran through his head. She was wonderful, but she'd been around for such a short time. Clopin's fazed state faded as he thought he would simply have to find out the way he had with Mirage. He tousled his friends hair and grinned down at her. "A kiss can be the most soothing means of comfort, darling Mira. You know I would do anything for my best friend" She was relieved. "I'm sure, either that or just an excuse for a kiss. At least it shut you up for awhile." Clopin tweaked her nose. "Ah, but not for long! Enough of this, at any rate. Our people are working hard on the streets above us, you and I should join them. Lets go and find Irea!" Mirage put her hands on her hips and grinned triumphantly "So I have the King's permission to do something, eh?" He waggled a finger at her "So long as you don't leave my side!" They laughed together and kissed again, this time a chaste and only friendly peck. 

** 

Joker kicked open the door of the small cottage he'd "borrowed" for a while. "Honey, I'm home!" he shouted cheerfully, and danced into the warm, cozy living room where three frightened figures gazed fearfully at him, and one glared. The glaring one was Irea, tightly tied up and lying on the floor. The other three were the houses's residents, a man, his wife and their child. All three were tightly bound to armchairs in the room. They'd been having their midday meal when their strange guest had burst in, dragging the gypsy girl by her hair. Frightened by the man's height, his glowering and evil smile, and his strange manner of speech, they'd quickly given in when Joker had proved his adeptness in knocking the man out as he rose to defend his family. He leered down at Irea who struggled against her bonds, unable to use her magik with her hands tied up. "Aw, why so cranky, cutie-pie? We're gonna play a game now!!!!" Hoisting Irea up unmericfully by her hair, he sat her down on another small wooden chair and pulled the gag out of her mouth. She spat at him ferociously and tried to bite his hand but he pulled it away and waggled a finger at her. "Naughty naughty! You're breaking one of the rules, and believe me, you don't wanna do that." Irea refused to say anything, just glared from her angry black eyes. Joker perched on the edge of the table and smiled at his captives. "Now the game we're gonna play folks, is called 'Three Questions'. And it works like this. I ask our lovely little gypsy friend here a question, and then she answers it." "The hell I will!" Irea finally spoke up. Joker pulled a face of mock horror. "Now say, are you trying to cop out here? You don't wanna do that honey, cuz ya see, if you're gonna ruin it for everybody else, it's bye bye daddy first, then mommy, then sweet little tot. You see this?" Joker pulled out his shiny black object "This is called a gun. I'm gonna show you what it does now, and I'm sure you'll be dying to play along once I have." Joker shot the man between the eyes. The impact knocked the armchair back onto the floor, and the man's head lolled sickeningly, his eyes glazing over. His wife and child widened their eyes, and struggled hard against their bonds, trying to scream through their gags. Irea just stared, her mouth open slightly, not believeing this strange, dangerous weapon. Joker coughed. "Hmm...better make that 'Two Questions'" 

** 

In the Vicomtesse's carriage, Harley watched Ginevra through suspicious eyes,her arms folded acorss her breasts, as the wind beat hard against the thin glass of the windows. "So, how you gonna get me back to Puddin'?" she demanded. The Vicomtesse raised her imperious gaze to Harley and brushed it over the girl's face. If Harley had been sane, she might've been intimidated by this look, but she wasn't so she just glared back. "The Joker is coming to the Palace of Justice this evening" she lied glibely to the girl. "If you come back there with me, you'll be in a position to apologise for your folly and win his affection back." Harley forehead creased. Man the chick talked weird. But Harley understood enough to know that she could meet up with Puddin' tonight and be blissflly reunited with her one true love. Harley couldn't figure it. This chick had seemed like a totally cold fish last night. Certainly not the kind to do something outta the goodness of her heart, like Columbine. So howcum she was being so nice to Harls now? "So, you came out all along the streets today to find me and tell me this?" she asked in suspicous confusion. The Vicomtesse delicately raised her eyebrows. "By no means. You have to do something for me as well." HA!!! She KNEW it! Harley grinned smugly. "Oh yeah? Like what?" The Vicomtesse smiled cattily. "You have to give me some information. For example, tell me what your lover really has planned for the city." Harley gaped. "HELLO! You already know! Yer boyfriend's in on it, remember? Yeesh!" The Vicomtesse's smile faded quickly. "Don't play games with me, child. If you think I trust that lunatic for a second, then you're quite mistaken. Now tell me the entire truth." Harley pouted. Everyone was trying to bully her these days!!! Well, she wasn't gonna tell this woman ANYTHING, nuh-uh! "Look Bella Donna," she said cockily with a matter-of-fact expression. "I - " The Vicomtesse's iron grip encirlced Harley wrist, and her eyes blazed furiously at her. "What did you just call me?" "OUCH! Hey let go, ya buxom bully!" The Vicomtesse's face was a hard cold mask, but she loosened her grip. "What kind of game are you playing now?" Harley snatched her wrist back, rubbing it sulkily. "Nothin! Gawd, it's not my problem you have a million names noone can remember. I just called ya what ya fella called ya, that's all. Yeesh!" The Vicomtesse glowered at Harley. "You have no right to take such a liberty. Address me as the Vicomtesse, and nothing else." Harley pulled a mimicking face, but changed it quickly under the Vicomtesse's stare. She did a mock salute. "Yes sir! Er, I mean 'ma'am'!!" Harley was feeling very cross and very naughty. This chick reminded her of some school teacher she'd had back in the seventh grade. Well, she wasn't going to tell her anything. Coughing in pretend politeness Harley began again. "Well, Vicomtesse, all I can tell ya is this! Puddin wants to paint the city green and purple so it'll match him. That way it'll make great camoflauge when the King of the Potato People leads the Spud Patrol down the green green grass of home to attack him and OUCH!" The Vicomtesse's hand whipped out like lightening and slapped Harley hard. Too amazed to even react, Harley clasped her stinging cheek and gaped at the Vicomtesse. The Vicomtesse spoke in a biting voice. "I warned you not to play games with me. Now you can either tell me everything you know, or you can wait in the dungeons for your lover to join you tomorrow." Harley's eyes widened even more. "WHAT?" She demanded "Dungeons? Yer gonna put my Puddin' in the DUNGEONS didja just say?" Being unable to take Harley seriously had worked against the Vicomtesse, and certain of the girl's idiocy she continued without compunction now. "That's right. Your lover is a lunatic, so are you, the dungeons is where you both belong." Harley's eyes were blazing as furiously as the Vicomtesse's. "The heck with that!" she screeched, and punched the Vicomtesse hard in the face, before wrenching the still moving carriage door open and leaping down onto the streets, ducking through the crowds, and quickly down a side alley. The startled and shocked Vicomtesse sat up dazedly, clutching her mouth where Harley had hit her, and recoiling at the sight of blood on her hands. Rapping furiously at the small window between herself and Erik she screeched. "Don't just sit there looking like an idiot! Go after her!" But Harley had dissapeared. 

** 

Columbine was thinking hard. Stop Joker's plan. But should she somehow get Joker to bump off Clopin? Columbine had gone down to the Court of Miracles as Harley had told her to do, and stopped at Trouillefou's tent to see him in a highly passionate and very involved embrace with his friend, Mirage. The sight had made Columbine exceedingly unhappy. Trouillefou had deliberately tugged Harley's heartstrings and Columbine did not feel particularly inspired to help him. She'd left the Court and decided to make her own way about the city, doing what she saw fit. The hell with the gypsies. She'd do what she could to help Harley and that was it. Columbine caught a glimpse of a familiar carriage rolling past, and darted forward gracefully to peer quickly in it's windows before moving swiftly on. The imperious woman was alone,and alone with a furious expression on her face. Columbine was glad; she hadn't trusted that woman one whit. But where was Harley now? Back in the Court? Looking for Columbine? Columbine's brow creased. She didn't want to leave Harley wondering where she was, but she also did not want to return to the Court. Maybe Columbine should simply cut a few corners and track down Joker herself. She could stop his plan, then find Harley and the three of them could happily go back to the twentieth century and forget this filthy place. Columbine found this to be an excellent plan. 

** 

Joker's victims had long since been discovered and the people of Paris were panicking and heading indoors at a frenzied pace to barricade their doors and kneel beneath crosses praying frantically. Those who did not were beating on the doors of the Cathedral and the Palace of Justice and calling out for guards and prayers and answers. Those who did not previously know anything about the mysterious deaths quickly found out as they called out questions to their neighbours. But the romany still patrolled the streets tirelessly, hunting down Joker's bombs, leaving no stone unturned in their pursuit. With the loss of their audience, the romani gathered in groups in taverns or under trees or by fountains. The rom children meanwhile, played cheerfully in the Court, delighted at being left alone for so long, running wild and doing things they would not normally dare. Inside his new cottage, Joker was unaware of what was happening outside on the streets. Irea wasn't given a chance to wonder. "First question, toots. Who's the gypsy with the purple mask and the big hat?" Clopin??? Why did Joker want to know about Clopin?? She couldn't tell Joker anything!! But if she didn't - Joker's gun was pointed firmly at the parisian's woman head, even as teers pooled around her gag, her eyes red rimmed and terrified. She was a gaje. If she saw Irea on the streets she would be likely to shout at her to move on. But she was also just a woman - with a child. "I'll give you the count of three, cutie. One - " "The Gypsy King!" Irea blurted out. "He is our King, and he rules over us and protects us from the gaje." Joker grinned."His name?" Irea looked into the woman's eyes and sighed "Clopin" Joker winked. "Thanks,toots" And blew the woman's head off. "NO!" Irea screamed "You lied!!!!!" Joker grinned sharkily. "I'm a notorious liar, doll. But to be fair, that was just to show you I mean business. You can still save little daughter though. Tell me what Clo-pahn has planned and I'll let you both go." Irea glared at him. "You just said you're a notorious liar." Joker shrugged again "Have it your way." and cocked his gun at the little girl's head. Irea took a risk and lied. "He and his men are planning to hunt you down and kill you. They've taken away all your weapons and have thrown them in the river." Joker felt really, really annoyed. These ignorant peasants had completely ruined a totally brilliant gag. Now how was he going to pay them out for that? Bad enough Clopin had ruined his beautiful hat today, now the Gypsy King looked as though he were going to get one up on Joker. Couldn't let that happen, now could we. He'd have to think of something really special for Clopin. Irea took a deep breath and "volunteered" more information. "They have also taken hostage your woman, Harley Quinn." Joker leapt up in astonishment. "What? They've got Harley Girl, didja say?" Irea nodded, glaring at him defiantly. "They've got her. They will kill her too." Joker frowned. Now, if anyone was going to kill ole Harls, it really should be him. These gypsy really were not playing by the rules. Joker thought for a moment, scratching his long nose. "So all men and women are up on the streets tracking down my little gas bombs, eh?" It seemed almost strange to ask that and Irea hesitated before nodding slowly. Her stomach plummeted when Joker's eyes lit up and a strangely satisifed smile tweaked the corners of his mouth. "Ya know, come to think of it, I haven't noticed any wide eyed, barefooted dirty haired little gypsy child out on the streets today" he said quietely, almost to himself. Irea's eyes widened. "What's to bet they're all by their little lonesomes in your underground hideyhole, eh?" Looking at Irea's horrified black eyes, Joker got his answer. Then he laughed. 

** 

Harley was racing along the streets, heedless of the parisians who wailed at the cathedral doors, ignoring the gypsies who stared at her in astonishment. She had to find Mistah J and warn him that Frollo was gonna betray him!!! She couldn't believe this, Mistah J was supposed to betray Frollo!! Soooo not fair!!!!! Oh but by the time Frollo planned to betray Puddin, Puddin would already have betrayed Frollo and Frollo would be dead! Then Harley got confused. But wasn't she supposed to stop Mistah J's plan? Yes!! But then if she did, Puddin *couldn't* betray Frollo first! So she *did* have to find him, then they could just go back to Gotham, and try their luck with Ancient Rome or something. It seemed like a plan to Harley, and her mind made up, she darted down an alley way then shrieked out loud as two long,strong arms reached out and yanked her to the side. She was more than a little relieved to see Clopin, with a wide-eyed Mirage behind him, was the one who held her. "Clopin!" she said cheerfully "Hiya, hows it?" "Where are you running to, Harley?" Clopin asked her pointedly, not loosening his grip. "Has something gone wrong, where's Columbine?" "I don't have time to chat,good-lookin, really! I gotta stop Mistah J and warn him that Frollo's gonna betray him!" Clopin's eyes widened at that and his eyebrows shot up. "Frollo? What are you talking about?" Harley wriggled to get out of Clopins' grip. "NO time, sexy! I gotta go!" she wrenched herself free and looked up into Clopin's handsome brown face. Well, it was now or never!!!! "But before I do, I just gotta do this!" and throwing herself on Clopin she wrapped her legs around his waist and kissed him vigorously as he started back and put surprised hands on her back. Mmmm!! He did taste nice! Like spices and wine and other tangy stuff. And what a tongue! Almost as good as Puddin's!!!!! Finally she pulled free, gave the startled Clopin a grin and a wink, leapt down from his arms and resumed her sprint down the streets of Paris. Puddin' Puddin', where could he be? Clopin, meanwhile, stared dazedly after Harley's retreating bouncy form,and despite his concern and worry for Irea, couldn't help but wish he had taken the oppurtunity to know Harley a little better. The thought was knocked out of his mind by Mirage giving him a hard whack on the head. "Are we going to find Irea or not?" she snapped when Clopin blinked at her.He shook his head vigourosly to clear it then grinned down at Mirage. "Of course, you female fool!" 

** 

© Harley Quinn, 2000 (harley_quinn@cheerful.com) May not be reproduced without permission. 


	9. Default Chapter Title

Mort Rit En Dernier - Chapter Nine 

The Vicomtesse had arrived in a frightful mood back at the Palace of Justice. She stormed through the doors the guards hastily pulled open for her, then stood glowering in the center of the large entrance hall, her pale face mirroring the smooth coldness of the bare walls. She turned to one of the guards violently who looked in some surprise at the small purple bruise next to the Vicomtesse's mouth. "Search the palace!! Everywhere! Anything unusual you should find, bring it to myself and the Minister immediately. Do you understand?" The guard saluted respectfully, then gestured to a few of his men to assist him. Then the Vicomtesse marched up the wide marble steps, through the maze of corridors, and down to Frollo's personal sitting room. Frollo raised his eyebrows delicatedly at her clearly furied state and gestured she should take a seat and calm herself. In no mood to be subserviant, the Vicomtesse refused, and stormed over to the tall leaded window, glaring out of it and into the dusty streets of Paris below. A few Parisians still milled about the Paris, asking the Minister for answers to this strange plague that had knocked down so many and without explanation, and she glared down at them in disgust, foolish,superstitous idiots that they were. Why didn't Claude send out his guard to tell them to go home? Frollo looked at the Vicomtesse's silent stony back and rubbed his chin. He wondered what had happened to infuriate her so. Smiling slyly to himself he glided silently up behind her and placed skeletal hands on her shoulders, massaging them gently. "Care to tell me what's troubling you, BellaDonna?" he whispered against her cheek, and she shivered a little at the sensation of his breath against her face. Moments like this reminded her of why she put up with the man's arrogance, his magnetism and power of self were incredible. She sighed and dared to lean her head back against his shoulder. "Those lunatic have brought trouble with them, Claude, I can feel it" she said in a monotone. He laughed softly. "You should not concern yourself so, on the morrow once they have finished their work, we will arrest them and hang them." Ginvera did not dare to tell Frollo she had revealed that plan to Harley Quinn. She had underestimated the girl's stamina and brightness and reluctance to reveal this lack of insight played as great a part in her silence as fear of Frollo's anger. Frollo's voice, when he spoke next, was cold with anger. "Of course the Fool has caused considerable trouble in the streets today, something that was not part a part of the bargain. The people are demanding an answer, but I cannot give them one until tomorrow." The Vicomtesse's lip twisted. "I did warn you, Claude, that the man was unstable." There was no answer except a tightening of his thin hands on her shoulders. She could imagine the thin, straight line of his mouth and his narrowed eyes at her last comment, and slightly nervous, she pulled herself free and walked over to the chair she had previously declined, sitting up straight in it, and daring to glance back at The Minister, her white face faintly shining in the thin,pale light that seeped through the tall windows. He had turned to face her, and standing as he was dirctly in front of the window, the light behind him, she could not see his facial expression, and she did not like it. Twisting one of her rings around her finger she stood up. "I wish to return to my estate, Claude." She felt, rather than saw, his eyebrows shoot up and his mouth purse. "Do you, my dear? You will abandon me in my time of need, with a maniac loose on the streets salughtering the good citizens of Paris?" Bile rose in her throat. "A maniac you sent out,Claude." "To do a job quite different to the one he is currently doing. You will not stay and offer your support?" She stood silent for a long moment, considering the options. If she left, would this be the end of everything between them? Would he ever again ask her to visit when her husband went away sit and drink fine red wine and discuss politics, poetry, art, history? Would they ever laugh again over the ignorance of the commoners, secure in their superiority? Or would she, Ginevra, be forced to languish around a manorhourse, that for all its opulence and excessive trappings, seemed more bare to her than the vacant stone walls of this palace? Perhaps she should stay. But no! She was not one of Claude's pathetic mistresses, hell bent upon their personal destruction. She had no desire to stay here and await whatever the madman had planned. She was going back to her estate. Taking a deep breath she spoke; "Claude, I have no wish to remain in this city and watch you create a fool of yourself. I am leaving immediately." She raised her chin and looked at him defiantly,daring his answer. After a moment, he raised a hand in condescending resignation and turned back to face the window. With her lips more pale than usual, the Vicomtesse marched out of the room and headed towards the wide staircase that would lead her out of the Palace. A guard hastily bowed to her as she approached and humbly interrupted her. "Excuse me, Vicomtesse, but upon following your instructions we uncovered these objects down in the Entrance Hall" She paused, glaring at what he held in his hands, two round objects, green and purple, and bearing the visage of the lunatic Claude had let loose on the streets. With a sneer she jerked her head back to the room she had just left. "Show them to the Minister." He bowed away and she continued her march. Outside, the wind was whipping more fiercely still, and black threatening clouds hung low over the city. Strands of her hair coming loose with the force of the wind, she gazed in exasperation at the dark sky, as Erik helped her into her coach. "We're going straight home, Erik" she snapped. "Immediately" He bowed to her and climbed up into his seat, urging the horses on with a click. The Vicomtesse stared out at the dark, intimidating gothic monstrosity that was the Palace of Justice, even blacker against the dark sky, and her heart was heavy within her. 

** 

"Don't go away, toots, I want to forget you exactly the way you are!" Joker laughed, blew Irea a kiss, then flounced out of the house, leaving Irea and the little girl lying on the floor, still tightly bound, with a laugh and a blown kiss. Irea gritted her teeth against her gag and wriggled furiously against the ropes which cut into her wrist. Probably drawing blood, she thought with a grimace, but did not cease her struggle. She had to get free!! Get free and back to the Court of Miracles, and somehow stop that maniac. The two dead bodies nearby her were repulsive to her, and she wished to get away from them. The little girl, in shock,simply lay stock still on the floor, her bloodshot eyes staring blankly in front of her. Irea's wrists and hands were small, and although the ropes were tied tightly,continued struggling finally managed to push them down a little way over her hands. Calling out in migled frustration and pain, Irea continued to struggle, jerking her arms almost out of their sockets as she forced the ropes down further over her hands. With a last fierce push, the ropes were off her wrist, and almost crying with relief, Irea sat herself up and wrenched the gag from her mouth, licking her dry lips. She pulled her numb legs in front of her and whacked them hard to bring them to life again,and fumbled with the ropes that bound them, her hands now free and able to utilise a simple spell to loosen the knots. Then it was time for the little girl. Irea tore the bonds and gag from her, but she only hung limply in Irea's arms, barely moving, still staring ahead vacantly. Irea slapped her face, and shook her by the shoulders, but the child did not react. Irea sighed and slumped down, rubbing her aching shoulders as she stared at the child. She had to get out of here and fast, but she couldn't leave the child frozen like this. Irea did not know what was wrong with her, but she thought it was perhaps a spell Joker had put on her, and she was reluctant to leave an enchanted child unattended. Groaning at her foolish heart, she finally picked the child up, heavy in her slackness, and stumbled out of the house with her, ducking down quickly by the door to make sure no nearby Parisians saw her, a gypsy, exiting a gaje house with a babe in her arms. She certainly didn't need them to go in the house and discover the dead bodies within. The street was deserted, and the sky was an angry black, a few fat splotches of rain hitting the cobblestoned street, and plonking onto Irea's head and bare shoulders. Running hastily down the cottage's small stone steps, Irea took up the streets as fast as she could. 

** As the rain began to pour down heavier and the wind screamed and bent the trees,in the Cathedral of Notre Dame the hunchbacked bellringer tugged on the cords of the bells to announce a mass, hastily called by the Archdeacon. The greater population of Paris filled the aisles and knelt in prayer. Not all of them were entirely sure what was going on, but rumors of enchanted deaths and murderous enemies attacking the city had spread like wildfire, and the Archdeacon had called the mass to placate the people and prevent a panic. Minister Frollo was not in attendance, he stood still by his window, watching the rain, and glad the Archdeacon had acted so he would not have to. Outside on the wet streets, Columbine spotted Irea carrying something large, and clearly heavy, as she stumbled over the loose stones of the streets. Narrowing her eyes, Columbine ran gracefully up to the girl, who shrieked as Columbine darted in front of her. When Irea saw who it was, her black eyes narrowed. After her encounters with The Joker, she firmly did not trust anyone associated with him, and she backed away from Columbine who only stood staring expressionless at her, glaring at the woman. "Have you seen him?" Columbine barked at her and Irea started and continued to glare, her lips firmly shut. Columbine gave a short nod of her silky head. "You have. What are his plans?" Columbine glanced at the stunned child in Irea's arms and sneered. "So gypsies stealing babies is a true story?" That got Irea talking. "This child is under enchantment from your murdering Joker!" she shouted over the wind to Columbine. "He is going to slaughter the children of my people! You've done nothing to stop him!" The mention of children caused Columbine to frown. She did not hold with hurting children. Irea shivered, her wet clothes clinging to her, trying to keep the child's head covered, but although soaked to the bone, Columbine stood still,heedless of the wind and rain, staring straight ahead in thought. Finally she looked at Irea. "Then we had best act fast, if we're going to stop him." Irea stared at her, uncertain whether to believe her. Columbine held out her arms. "I'm stronger than you are, give the child to me." After a moment of hesitation, Irea handed the little girl over to Columbine, and the two women took up running through the streets, back towards the Court of Miracles. 

** 

Down by the river, Clopin had a protective arm around a shivering Mirage, as the rom gathered with their sacks, and hessian cloaks wrapped around their bodies to keep out the rain. One by one, the sacks were emptied into the river, all of Joker's bombs bobbling cheerfully on the surface, their smiling faces leering up at the rom who clung to one another and sang softly that the dark magik in the bombs would be rendered useless. The rushing water swept the round balls quickly down the river, taking them speedily out of the city. A feeling of triumph and peace swept the rom as they watched them go, and they turned to each other with smiles on their dark faces, wives cuddling close to their husbands, the men shaking hands as the tension was broken and they laughed cheerfully, despite the cutting of the Autumn rain. Mirage and Clopin were not at peace. Worry for the still absent Irea tugged at the both of them, and they clung to each other for comfort. As the rom agreed it was time to go to the taverns that allowed gypsy patronage for drinks and celebratory meals, Mirage turned her head to Clopin, her mouth pulled down at the corners and her eyes sorrowful. "Where is she Clopin?" she asked him softly, and he pulled her head to his chest. "We'll find her, Mira, don't worry." He said soothingly. "Leave the people to their celebration, we don't need to worry them. We'll go back to the Court and see if she has returned there, and if not we'll hunt the streets until we find her." He squeezed Mirage's cheeks. "We'll even break into the gaje homes if necessary!" Mirage grinned up at him, and the two turned away from the rom and made their way through the streets to their underground home. 

** 

Harley crouched in a doorway, soaking wet, shivering and very cranky. Of all the luck!! It would start to pour down like Armaggedon just when she was out and about and looking for her man. This was useless! Noone told her medieval Paris was BIG. How was she supposed to find Mistah J in this labyrinth?? There was only one thing for it! She would just have to trot on off back to that old Court place and demand an explanation for the weather. Then that sexy Clopin could just take her back out on the streets and help her look THEN she could convince Puddin that Paris in the fifteenth century was small potatoes! Everything would be hunky dory consequently. Yehar! Her mood considerably lightened, Harley leapt out from her doorway,just as the Vicomtesse's carriage rattled past, spraying mud all over Harley's dress. Harley pouted and glowered after the carriage. This had been the worst trip ever! 

** 

Frollo glowered out at the raging storm, clutching one of Joker's bombs in his skeletal hands. He had been a fool to trust the madman! No matter - his soldiers were on the streets, hunting him down at that very moment. A little sooner than he had anticipated, but he couldn't allow the lunatic on the streets any longer, that had been proven. He rather thought his people would be placated by a public hanging in the morning. As for Ginevra - Frollo grinded his teeth in fury. Insupportable woman! That she should dare to walk out on him - still. She had been correct about The Joker. A fact he was sure she would secretly gloat about if she knew. Perhaps the best mode of action would be to leave her to calm down for a few weeks and then leave this unpleasant incident behind them. Frollo steepled his fingers and observed two of his soldiers splashing through the rain soaked streets in pursuit of the madman,trying to shelter their heads. They would find him. Where on earth could a lunatic like that hide? 

** 

Joker hummed the WB cartoon theme as he splashed happily through the muddy earth in the graveyard, heedless of his lovely white spats getting dirty.Hmm...was it a fashion mistake to wear spats with cuban heels? But then, he'd never followed the social norms. And he had enough style to pull it off. He arrived at the large stone sarcophagi, put the sack he carried on the ground, cracked his knuckles and shoved the lid to the side. He'd visited the Court of Miracles back in the twentieth century. A huge cavern, filled with rotting artifacts, and heaped skulls, haunted by the ghosts of long dead gypsies. Joker had liked it very much, the smell of damp and the chill of lost spirits on his neck. Joker lowered his lanky form in, pulling his sack in with him. This was going to be lots of fun. And one couldn't deny the lovely symbolism behind it too. Death of the next generation - death of the gypsy future, so to speak. Cackling cheerfully, Joker moved quickly down the long tunnel, like a demonic skeleton, then tap danced his way down the stone steps into the Court. Lanterns had been left lit for the children who'd gathered collectively in the Court Square to play,young girls holding their baby sibling close to their bosoms as they'd seen their mothers do, and several pairs of moist, dark eyes turned their way apprehensively towards Joker, blinking guiltily, afraid the return of elders would lead to spankings for running wild like wildebeests. When they saw it was no elder they knew, but a tall, frightfully thin very white man with the visage of Death on his face, they gaped and looked at him nervously. They were naturally suspicious of outsiders, and this man gave off a strange impression of menace and madness. But Joker was not fazed by their fearful looks. Pulling out three of his Joker gas bombs, he began to juggle them cheerfully, moving his way into the square as he did so.The children blinked at him again, but his laughter, now taking on a considerably lighter and friendlier tone, his smile, the way he danced as he juggled intrigued them, and they turned to watch him as he made his way into their midst. As he moved amongst them, he swept a cap off one, a shoe off the floor, and his gun from his breast pocket, and swept them up with his bombs, juggling them all without hesitation. "Step right up, folks!" he shouted to the children "And witness the wonder of the one and only Joker! He's brought a treat for all you kiddies with him today, but get up close or you'll miss out." A few of the children had begun to giggle at his funny manner of speaking and after an initial hesitation, they began to creep closer to him. Joker felt like the Pied Piper. Wasn't that a french story? Joker ceased his juggling, letting all the items fall to the floor with a clatter, and bowed to the children who smiled and pushed hair from their eyes. The gun fortunately had the safety switched on, but when one dirty footed boy slipped forward to retrieve his cap, he picked it up curiously, glancing at the Joker to see if he would be scolded. When Joker only smiled at him encourgaingly,he darted back to his place with cap and gun, fiddling with the strange new object with protruding lower lip. Joker through back his head and laughed, then beckoned to a particularly beauitful young girl with large green eyes, who nursed her baby brother in her lap. Smiling shyly, she handed the baby to a friend, then crawled forward to Joker who tousled her hair and pinched her nose and asked her if she liked dolls. After she nodded, smiling and still silent, he produced a doll from his coat pocket, in Harley's likeness, and tossed it to her. She caught it, and backed up to her place, cuddling the doll close. With a bang the doll exploded, sending multicolored confetti raining down on the heads of the children, who after a moment of shock began to laugh, and dance under the stream of paper. Joker grinned over it all, rubbing his hands with glee. He was having fun already! 

** 

Thunder wracked the now black sky, followed quickly by bolts of lightening lightning. Visibility was difficult, and the rain streaked down savagely. Clopin and Mirage spotted the three huddled figures lifting the lid of the sarcophagi as they splashed through the graveyard, desperately trying not to step on any of the tombstones, and gave a shout. "Irea!Irea!" Mirage called frantically as she recognised the shaggy head of her friend who looked up with a start. Slipping in the mud, the two rom raced over to their friend who ran forward to meet them, laughing in relief. They slammed together in a group hug, and looking down into Irea's sparkling black eyes, Clopin wished for once that Mirage wasn't quite so close. He swept the two girls up into his arms and squeezed them tight as they hugged one another, thankful to be reunited, the two girls trying desperately to talk over the top of each other, just as though everything were normal. Next to the sarcophagi, Columbine watched with narrowed eyes through the sleeting rain, still clutching the shocked child in her arms. Looking up at her,Clopin realised something serious was in the air, and explanations and hugs could be given later. Putting his lady friends down, he nudged them towards the sarcophagi, and Irea ran ahead of them. "Come on!" she shouted above the wind "The Joker will already be down there!" Clopin and Mirage exchanged frantic looks, and Clopin's long legs quickly caught up with Irea as he grabbed her arm and swung her around to face him. "What do you mean? The Joker is down there with the children?" Irea detached herself from his grip which rubbed painfully against her wounded wrists and nodded. "He wants to slaughter them all!!! We have to hurry!!" Her heart racing, Mirage helped her friend push aside the lid of the sarcophagi and the five were quickly under ground, and pushing the lid back. "WAAAAAAIIIIITTTTTT!!!!!!" a familiar high-pitched voice shrieked, and a second later Harley threw herself into the grave, screeching as she fell heavily down the stone steps, a second before the lid was shut. "Harley!" Columbine all but dropped the child she was carrying, who was quickly rescued by Clopin, and darted down the steps to help the sopping Harley to her feet. "Oy vey!" Harley moaned. "Man I'm gonna be sore tomorrow!" She looked up around her at Columbine, the three gypsies and the little girl and gave alopsided grin. "Hey, the gangs all here! Where's the fire?" Mirage pointed ferociously at Harley. "The fire is your lover wants to slaughter our children!" Harley blinked. "I didn't know you were a mother!" she said to Mirage. Mirage paused for a beat, then with a roll of her eyes,pushed her way past the two women, earning herself a deathstare from Columbine and a bewildered expression from Harley, and then they were all moving quickly down the tunnel, wondering what carnage they would find and hoping to find none. 

** 

© Harley Quinn, 2000 (harley_quinn@cheerful.com) May not be reprouced without permission. 


	10. Default Chapter Title

Mort Rit En Dernier - Chapter Ten 

Clopin placed the little gaje girl down by the steps which went down into the Court, and placed his cloak around her. She was just beginning to show signs of life again, putting her thumb in her mouth and shivering from the cold of her wet clothes. Cautiously then, the two psychopaths and the three gypsies crept down the stairs, their surprised ears pricking up at the sound of laughter. The sight that met them caused only Harley to sigh in happiness. Irea, Mirage and Clopin just gaped in astonishment. The children were dancing playfully around Joker with various strange toys and other objects. One romany boy was yanking on a series of colored handkerchiefs that protruded from Joker's pocket. Above them Joker was cackling joyously, letting them play. Irea and Mirage's astonishment was quickly replaced with terror as they saw the familiar sight of the supersoaker in Joker's hands, and they turned and hissed to Clopin. "It's what made the people laugh on the streets, what he's holding!" Mirage whispered."Clopin, what can we do? It's powerful magik!" Clopin turned slowly to Harley who blinked at him and grinned. "Harely, go out and distract your lover from his deeds." Harley grimaced, secretly nervous about Joker's reaction to her reappearance. "Aw, come on, he's just being paternal." Columbine laid a cool hand on Harley's wrist. "Do you want him to kill all those children, Harley? They're not Gotham's children, they don't belong to him." Columbine was very familiar with the way Harley thought. Harley looked at Columbine for a moment,then stared into her lap and sighed. "Awright!!" she said resignedly, and hopping up she backflipped her way into the court square, before doing a neat somersault and landing on her feet, she struck a pose with one hip out and grinned at Joker who gazed at her with some astonishment. "Hi Puddin', didja miss me?" she said coyly. A slow smile spread over Joker's face. "Haaaaarley!!! Well, I'll be! I thought you were at the bottom of the river by now!" Harley shook her blonde head "Nu-uh! Oh they tried to get me, but I was too quick for them! I beat em to the ground and laughed! Ya shoulda seen it!" Joker held out his arms "That's my girl! Come here, pumkin pie!" With a delighted woop Harley leapt over the heads of the gypsy children and into Joker's arms where she cuddled happily. Behind the two, Mirage raced quickly to her tent. Joker put Harley back on the ground and tousled her hair, pinching her cheeks. "You're just in time for all the fun, Harley Girl! I'm about to wreak vengeance on the Gypsy King AND have a good time doing it! Wanna join in?" Harley looked at the children milling around her feet and chewed her lower lip. "I dunno, Puddin'. I mean, these are just kids. Wouldn't it be more fun to get the grownups?" Joker's smile instantly faded. "NO it WOULDN'T! That what's everyone else would do!Am I everyone else? NO I'm NOT! That man ruined my hat, and there could very well be a few of his brats running around amongst these little cretins. Shuttup and let the master do his work!" Harley cringed, and the children had been shocked into silence and were staring up at Joker with fearful expressions. With a glowering frown fixed on Harley, Joker pumped his supersoaker and turned back to the children. Suddenly a sweet, wailing cry rose up through the Court, then danced into a pretty, joyous melody as Joker, Harley and the children turned to face the sound. It's a violin, Joker realised, playing pretty warbly little tunes. How droll. The children were smiling again as they recognised the sound, and one by one they were beginning to move away from The Joker and Harley Quinn, dancing to the beauty of the song. "Mirage! It's Mirage playing for us!" They cried and ran closer as the romani girl approached them, playing skillfully on her precious violin, her frightened eyes watching Joker above her frozen smile. Joker was really glowering. It wasn't fair!!! If it wasn't Batman then it was a gypsy girl who thought she was a cowboy!!!!! No matter where he went there was always someone who wanted to blow the punchline!!! Well not this time! Joker raised his supersoaker again as Irea stepped out from the passage way with a fierce and grim expression. "We'll see how funny you are without your toys, Clown!" she snapped to herself, and began to mutter under her breath, her hands flipping gracefully as she chanted her spell. Joker's furious grin changed to one of surprise as his supersoaker began to glow, then floated out of his hands. He groped at it, his mouth gaping, but it moved quickly out of his reach, over to Irea who leapt on it and clutched it close to her, snarling at Joker as she ran away. Joker was livid!!! This was the pits! Reaching inside his breast pocket he fumbled for his gun. It wasn't there! Joker's expression turned to one of alarm as he checked his other pockets frantically. No it wasn't there either! What the hell? His gun, where was it! Then, with an angry cry he remembered he had let the snotty nosed brat take it, in hopes he would release the safety and randomly shoot at his little friends. Tearing at his hair in frustration, he rounded on the terrified Harley and whalloped her soundly across the face. It was all the incentive Columbine needed. Leaping out she kicked Joker across the face who fell back,then rose up in front of him with her fists clenched. Sitting up, Joker glared at her. "well well well, if it ain't the LapDog!" he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm "I should've known you'd have a hand in this somehow." Columbine sneered at him and prepared for another crushing blow when Harley's weak voice called out behind her. "C-c-coolumbiiineeee..." she moaned, and Columbine was instantly by her side, lifting the bloody mouthed Harley up who clutched at her friend's bodice. "Do-onn't huurrt mmy Puuddddinn..." she managed to stammer out as Joker rose to his feet behind them and brought both fists down heavily on Columbine's head. She slumped forward, stunned, on top of Harley who was slammed to the floor again and moaned weakly. Joker then turned towards Irea. Her again! The little brat had evidently gotten free. Well, he'd take care of her first, then her fiddle-playing friend. Mirage had meanwhile ceased playing and hurried the gypsy children towards the back of the cavern, wanting to get them as faraway from The Joker as possible. Irea threw the supersoaker as far away from her as she could as Joker stormed towards her. Readying her hands for more magik, she stood her ground as the Laughing Demon got closer and closer. Reaching out with one hand he made as though to punch her, and when she spun to duck out of his way, his other hand gripped firmly about her neck, cutting off her air. She gasped and kicked at him, scratching his white flesh with her fingernails, as Joker slowly and steadily lifted her into the air, tightening his grip on her throat, grinning at her mockingly, with dead eyes. Mirage had returned and shouted with fear to see her friend being strangled in this way, but it was the moment Clopin had been waiting for. Leaping out of the shadows, he knocked Joker to the floor, who released Irea in his surprise. Irea rolled along the ground, gasping for air, then leapt to her feet and hurried over to Mirage who hugged her friend in relief. Clopin kicked Joker in the face, then punched him hard in the stomach. With gritted teeth and gleaming eyes, Clopin moved forward again, incensed only further by the fact Joker was greeting his attack with gasping laughter. In the background, Columbine had recovered, lifting herself hastily off Harley, and helping the stunned girl to her feet who grinned dazedly at Columbine before giving a shout of horror to see Clopin pounding on her boyfriend. She tried to dart forward, but was wrenched forcibly back by Columbine, who hoped her wish for Joker's death would be granted. "Joker can hold his own, Harley, you know that" she whispered to placate her friend. And when he doesn't, she thought grimly, I can butcher the Gypsy King for Harley's vengeance! Frightened and nervous, Mirage and Irea clung to each other watching their beloved friend beat on their enemy. They were certain Joker would be no match for their King, but readied themselves for assistance should he need it. Joker had quickly recovered, and as Clopin's fist swung around for another punch he ducked neatly out of the way, then whipped an ankle around Clopin's tripping him up. Columbine's eyes narrowed. What game is he playing? She wondered. He's only defending,not attacking. Joker further confirmed this when Clopin leapt to his feet, Joker continued to simply duck and dodge the Gypsy King's fists and feet, mockingly waving scarfs in Clopin's face, as the two moved into the center ofthe square. Clopin paused as Joker grinned slyly at him, and took a deep breath. Getting furious with the lunatic would be of no use. The four women watched, enthralled, as their men sized each other up, one with a mocking waggle of his eyebrows and a finger placed thoughtfully on his chin, the other with an intense and furious expression, fists clutched by his side. Clopin spoke up first, his voice low and controlled. "So you would murder innocent children then,you maniac?" Joker shrugged. "Clopie, my friend, I would do *anything* for a joke." Anger leapt in Clopin's chest but he controlled it. "The slaughtering of childen you find to be a joke?" Joker leered. "One of the best kind." With a cry Clopin leapt forward, knocking Joker to the ground, and pounding one fist furiously on the madman's face. Joker did not nothing, only laughed. Clopin pulled his dagger from his belt. "Will you think it so funny when I slit your throat?" Joker smiled at him in an almost affectionate way. "Sure. It'll be hysterical." Clopin's lip curled. "You'll not find mercy in me this way. You've killed my people, it is only just I should kill you." Mirage and Irea watched with wide eyes,Columbine and Harley with crazed ones. Joker raised his eyebrows in surprise. "No, no I mean it! It'll be really funny! I mean, here you are, a Gypsy King, fighting for his people to be accepted in the world, and here I am, low down dirty rotten scoundrel murdering for the sake of it, and you'll kill me though I won't raise a hand to stop you!" Clopin paused, with his blade pressed against Joker's windpipe. Joker continued. "I've always said, if you gotta go at least take a good man down with you!" "Shuttup!" Clopin hissed through gritted teeth. Joker pursed his lips "No! I should enjoy the joke before you shuffle me off this mortal coil! I'm not a soldier who arrested your people for singing on the street, I don't hate you because I'm ignorant and you're a gypsy, I just felt like getting out and doing some damage. Completely indiscriminate, but you'll let me drag you down!! Hee hee! Well, come on then Gypsy King, do the deed!" Clopin no longer looked at Joker, but above and beyond him, his face frozen, his lips slack. Suddenly, he got off Joker and resheathed his dagger, turning away as Joker sat up angrily. "Hey! Hey!" Joker called "Come back here!! You goddamned gypsy, you're ruined every single one of my jokes today!!!!! Get back here!!!" Clopin ignored him. He felt sick to the stomach, but oddly relieved too. He turned back to Joker. "Take your friends" with a nod to Harley and Columbine "and go back where you came from. Leave right now. Do not do anything else to this city or you will live to regret it." Joker's look was scornful,but he saw the Gypsy King was no longer going to be antagonised. The game was over. It *was* time to go home. He stood up and stretched, scratching his sides lazily. "Alright, alright, I can tell you're in no mood for fun. Come on Harley,LapDog" Columbine glowered. "let's go back to the twentieth, a time of enlightenment where maniacs like us are given comfy padded cells and three meals a day." Mirage and Irea walked falteringly over to their friend, who held up a weary hand and leaned on one of the benches in the square. His eye fell on an orange lying there, and his old grin worked its way across his face. Behind him, Harley was clinging to Joker's arm, and Columbine was following with a stony face. Joker's good humor was rapidly returning as he thought of Gotham awaiting him, and Batman, lovely lovely Batman, waiting too. Joker's eye fell on a pomengrante lying discarded on the floor, and with one swift smooth movement, he swept it up and turned back to Clopin, just as Clopin turned to face him. The two pieces of fruit went plummeting through the air to land with resounding smacks on the two men's faces, and amazingly, they both chuckled as they wiped juice out of their eyes. Joker leered at Clopin. "Say now, Clopie, under other circustances you and I mighta be friends!" Clopin's look was wryly amused. "I doubt it, somehow Joker." Joker laughed, and so benevolent did he feel that he wrapped an arm around Harley and Columbine both, the latter wrenching away to stand by Harley, and the three lunatics bounced out of the Court of Miracles and into the darkness of the tunnel above, while the three gypsies silently watched them with cold and aching hearts, standing side by side, as their strange guests dissapeared up the stairs and out of their lives. 

The storm had passed, and the sun had set and the night was quiet and still as nights always are after a storm. The ground was still damp and the air had a pleasant, fresh tang to it. Stars winked from the blue velvet of the cleared sky, and there was no breeze. Once in the graveyard, Columbine was only too eager to hustle Harley home, and the romance of Paris had long since worn off for Harley. She turned to Joker with a pleading expression, and even Columbine blinked at him from her large brown eyes. But Joker stared up at the millions of stars, there seeming to be so many more than there were in the twentieth century, and rubbed his nose. His deep purple eyes blinked at the universe beyond and he grinned suddenly. Harley tugged his coat sleeve. "Can we go home now, Puddin'?" she asked softly. Joker turned his head to her slowly, the light of the moon illuminating his long wet green hair, his face dark where the moonlight didn't strike it. He looks like a being made from the moon's light, Columbine thought with something as close to admiration as she would get for the Joker. "Soon, Harley Girl, soon" Joker said softly. "I just want to pay one last visit to our good friends the Minister and the Vicomtesse" 

** 

The next morning the sun burned brightly over Paris once more,though the air was still chill,and pale grey clouds dotted the blue sky. The damp streets rapidly dried as the people ventured cautiously out of their homes to go about their business, their hearts lightened by the dawn of a new day, the plagued bodies having being swiftly burnt. Frollo's guards returned to the Palace to report that no sign of the white faced madman had been uncovered, to all intents and purposes, he had vanished. Frollo sat, still and expressionless, in his armchair, gazing into the fireplace before him, strong dissatisfaction filling his chest and rising in his throat. Nothing had gone to plan. The lunatic had vanished, and the rom still plagued the streets of Paris. The Minister had a headache. Why did God test him so? No matter. Frollo was merely God's servant, he would face His challenges as He sent them. The Good Lord was merely testing his faith. He had plenty of years ahead of him to rid Paris of the heathen scum. The Minister rose slowly from his armchair with a sigh, deciding that the morning was cold enough for a fire to be lit. As he made his way over to the bell pull, he stopped with a lurch and a sinking stomach at the sight of the box on his table, illuminated by the grey light filtering in the windows. Looking about him nervously, Frollo walked forward slowly. A deep magenta box, each side was marked with a grinning skull wearing a Jester's cap. The identity of the person who'd left it was obvious, and for that reason Frollo hesitated to touch it, licking his lips, and furrowing his forehead. A note was pinned to the top,the words scrawled childishly in orange crayon. "No hard feelings, Frolly!!" And at that instant the lid burst open. Recoiling in sudden panic, Frollo lifted an arm to shelter his face. Gazing over the black of his sleeve, he felt foolish to see that the box contained nothing but a Jester on a spring, wobbling madly from side to side, holding a banner in it's hands that read "BOO". Laughing bitterly to himself Frollo strode up to the table again, prepared to throw the box against the wall, but at that second a stream of thick green paint flew from the gaping mouth of the Jester, splashing over Frollo's face and the front of his robes, staining it thickly. Gasping in disgust, Frollo wiped at his face with his sleeve, but only succeeded in spreading the gunk further. Clawing at the air, Frollo wailed. Why did the Lord test him so? 

Several miles away in her lavish estate, the Vicomtesse had risen and dressed in a hideously expensive wine red velvet gown. Sweeping into her sitting room, she was more than a little unsettled to find a box decorated with jester-capped skulls sitting on her elaborate carved writing desk. 

The paint in the Vicomtesse's box was purple. 

** 

Underneath the city of Paris, in the Court of Miracles, the rom had returned to sweep naughty children into their arms for scoldings and cuddles. The large fires had been lit, the pots once again bubbled with spicey foods, and soft sweet songs and incense filled the air as they chatted together happily and continued on with life. In his tent, Clopin lay on his bed, a troubled frown on his face. Something had happened to him these last two days, something that had damaged him inside. The madman would of killed all the children, the same children who watched Clopin in his puppet cart everyday, and who laughed and begged him to play tricks on them. If that wasn't enough, his lovely red-haired favourite had left Paris without telling him. Clopin didn't feel like leaving the Court. He didn't feel like leaving his tent. He sighed and passed a hand over his face, trying to ignore his aching heart Outside the tent, Mirage played Clopin a song on her violin, singing her love and friendship for Clopin with her bow. It did not comfort him like it usually did. Outside in the square, Irea watched Mirage playing for Clopin with pouty lips. She knew something was hurting Clopin deep inside, and she didn't know what to do to make it better. Running a gentle hand through the blonde hair of the gaje girl who had finally come out of her trance and begun to show some life again, Irea got up and filled a bowl with chicken and a tankard with beer then strolled over to the tent and Mirage. Giving her friend a grin who brought her song to a gentle end, gave Irea a wink and turned to walk back to her own tent, she lifted the tent flap and walked inside. Clopin sat up as she came in, smiling at him affectionately, and he couldn't help but return it. "Here, you have to eat something Clopin" she said gently, perching herself on the bed and handing the victuals to the man she loved. Clopin took them without letting his eyes leave her once. He looked at her rounded cheeks, her spakrling black eyes and her mischevious grin and felt considerably better. Life wasn't really so bad, you just had to roll with the punches. "Have you ever been kissed before, Irea?" he asked suddenly, and she blinked at him coyly. 

** 

GOTHAM CITY, 1999 

The skyline above Gotham was a hazy red, as it commonly was, and a violent storm was on its way as the sun melted into the horizon. Car horns blared, neon lights flickered, and an illuminous yellow light with the symbol of a Bat in its center struck the dark clouds above the city as night hit in Gotham City. Columbine and Harley Quinn, in fluffy slippers and gauzy nighties, their faces covered in peeling masks and wads of cottonwool stuck between their freshly painted toes, rolled around on the bed and laughed and laughed as the Barbie doll melted fiercely beneath the acid on the stake they'd impaled her on. They'd already forgotten Fifteenth Century Paris. Suddenly, the orange and green panelled door was kicked open, and The Joker, resplendant in a vivid blue suit with a green shirt and yellow waistcoat leapt into the room with a delighed grin on his face. "Heads up, Harley Girl and LapDog!" he shouted cheerfully. "The Clown Prince of Crime has a brilliant idea for New Years Eve! It's a killer! It's a classic!! It can't fail! What a way to ring in the New Millenium!" Columbine groaned and banged her head against the mattress while Harley rolled off the bed and leapt to her feet. "Come on, Columbs, lets go get dressed!!!! Anything Mistah J's got planned HAS to be fun!" Joker threw back his head and laughed in delighted triumph as lightning struck the Gotham skyline and a Man dressed as Bat continued a relentless search for him. 

End. 

© Harley Quinn, 2000 (harley_quinn@cheerful.com) May not be reproduced without permission. 


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